There Once Was a Boy
by BlindHuntress
Summary: Everybody has an origin story, and they don't always have happy endings. Not everyone ends up a hero...some become the villain. Zsasz x OC
1. Chapter 1

_Sophie looked over at him in the darkness of her bedroom, saw his profile as he looked up at the ceiling. Once again Aunt Carol wasn't home, either working or doing whatever she did when she wasn't home...either way she came home reeking of cigarettes and looking haggard and too caught up in her own thoughts to notice Sophie or the boy she hid in her room almost every night._

" _I've had enough" he growled, in a voice that was deepening with puberty, "I can't take it anymore. Next time...next time...I'm gonna kill him."_

 _Sophie felt her heart seize in her chest for a minute, but then she thought of all the times they had walked to school with bruises around his eyes, on his face, either of his arms in a cast on any given week. She remembered him climbing through her window just minutes before cradling his ribs, and she was filled with anger._

" _I'll help, I want to help too," she whispered harshly._

 _Victor turned to her in the darkness, his eyes gleaming in the darkness._

" _No, this is something I have to do on my own," and he sounded like an adult, like a man._

 _Sophie shivered and pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders, ashamed at the relief that flooded through her. She felt his gaze on her as she nodded, but as they did most nights, they just shared the calm silence. Whether it be tomorrow or the next day, Sophie knew in her gut he meant it this time, and things would never be the same._

Chapter One

Sophie Summers was a Registered Nurse at Gotham General, working three to four nights a week in the Emergency Department. She'd lived in Gotham her whole life, and had been working in the ED for four years, so Sophie figured she'd seen and heard about all the kinds of violence there was to experience, considering the cesspool of crime that Gotham was.

Since her Aunt Carol had died from lung cancer ten years ago, right about the time she was to graduate high school, Sophie had been on her own.

Sophie had been abandoned at a shopping mall by her mother when she was five, and although Sophie couldn't remember her mother's face, she still remembered her mother's voice telling her to wait for her in that spot until she came back. The night security guard found Sophie still in the same spot, legs shaking from holding her bladder in check. Police, child protective services and a short lived stint in an orphanage led up to Sophie being reluctantly claimed by her mother's sister. When Aunt Carol had died the year Sophie turned seventeen, Sophie had pursued legal action to become emancipated and the government jumped at the chance to not become responsible for one more mouth to feed and house for a year, her emancipation was granted. Because she had done nothing but work, Carol Summers' bank accounts held a nice sum of money to pay off her medical bills and with the sale of the house Sophie had enough to put herself through college and live in a run down studio apartment by her college. Aunt Carol's house hadn't been much to look at, and really had served no purpose but to put a roof over Sophie's head for the last twelve years, so she had no problems saying good-bye to it. However her gaze had lingered on the ghost of a house next door, with crime tape still roping off the front yard and crossed over the front door.

Sophie had placed her last letter to him in the mailbox that day, although he had stopped writing her at least a year and a half prior. As she lifted the red flag on the mailbox, she blew a kiss to the ramshackle house next door, to the boy who had used to live in it, the boy who for a short time, had made her feel not so alone. She wished him blessings, she wished him a better future than the past that had nearly beat the life out of him, and she sent her thanks to that boy, Victor Zsasz, and then walked away and never looked back.

Now Sophie finished giving report to the night nurse Tina and eyed the clock as she emptied her locker, only thirty minutes over her shift, and considering the multiple GSWs that had come in and the police reports that she had to file, that wasn't too bad. She shrugged on her zip-up and shoved her small purse under her armpit before clocking out and walking out the door of the ED.

Doctor Romalotti was standing on the curbside smoking, looking up at the skyline, one hand in his lab coat. Sophie was fond of the middle-aged man who had more patience than most physicians and had taken her under his wing when she'd been a new grad thrown into the fray. She slid up beside him and looked up at the sky next to him, "What's up, Doc?" she laughed and elbowed his side.

He looked over at her and his tired face curled partially into a smile. It had been a long day for everyone.

"The smog isn't so bad right now," he said looking back up at the sky, "You can actually see a few stars...unless those are just a few more lights from buildings."

Sophie nodded, "When are you gonna retire, Doctor Rome? Go retire out to the country, and then you can really see some stars."

"Are you trying to tell me I'm old? Nah, retiring isn't for me. I have too much debt anyway. Gladys took damn near my balls in the divorce, and well, I'm prone to my vices, gambling here and there."

Sophie rolled her eyes so he could see, but she knew quite well the doctor's vices. Sophie had hard no work romance rule, which had quickly snuffed out the interest that Romalotti had in her, but his straying eyes had found a CNA and a few other nurses, but for whatever reason, his wife had finally grown tired of his straying ways and left him. Sophie was glad that their professional relationship hadn't suffered because of his ways since she really wasn't that good at making and keeping friends.

"You better run off and get to sleep, enjoy a few days off," he closed off, snuffing out his cigarette under his shoe.

"You need to get some sleep too, old man," she chided, "Maybe start on getting over a few vices," she teased.

He scoffed and waved her off, "I'm too old to stop now," and they laughed. A shiny black car slammed on its brakes right in front of the hospital and a door flew open. A tall, lithe bald man stepped out of the car, his shoes shining under the red fluorescent lighting of the ED sign. The man adjusted his suit and rolled his shoulders as he moved forward in their direction.

"Francis," the man spoke, nodding at Doctor Romalotti, "We have need of your services."

Doctor Rome frowned and his eyes glanced at Sophie before he stepped in front of her, in-between her and the man's line of sight. "I still have a few hours left on my shift, can't it wait?"

"He waits for no one," the man said, his voice unforgiving.

Romalotti opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he turned to Sophie, "Sophie, go home, now," he snapped at her lowly and pushed her away with hand. It was then Sophie noted how many more wrinkles he had around his eyes, the age spots that were beginning to pop up on his hands, ageing too soon from all of those vices of his.

Anger filled her at his trembling hands, and Sophie stepped forward, hands curled into fists at her sides, "If you need emergency help, you can go inside the hospital and sign in, and wait your turn like everyone else," she snapped.

Doctor Romalotti made a strangled sound in his throat and grabbed for her arm to pull her behind him.

"I'm...I'm so sorry, this is a co-worker of mine. She didn't mean...she doesn't know, just, just go Sophie, it's fine, I know this man, it's fine,"

But the bald man in the nice suit had already moved forward, and Sophie noted he moved like a predator, swift and sure, with muscles rippling under his suit, evident even in the darkness of a Gotham night. Sophie stood firm as she had numerous times before in the face of drug-crazed individuals, as the man stepped up to tower in front of her, eyes dark as they flickered over her blinked when she realized he didn't have eyebrows...no hair on his face at all except his eyelashes, and it was weird and disconcerting and threw Sophie off. His fingers snapped out and flicked her badge, still on the front of her scrubs. "She's a nurse, and if she doesn't want to leave you, then she can join you," the man growled, and with a quick movement, hard, bruising fingers were around her elbow.

"Don't touch me," Sophie snapped blinking back to herself, and bringing up her foot, slammed her heel into the toe of his nice shiny shoe. The man didn't wince, didn't move away, but his grip became tighter and he growled low in his throat in warning.

"I'll go, just let her go," Francis Romalotti pleaded, moving to the car where another man had stepped out and was waiting. Sophie tried wrenching her arm away and found herself pulled tightly to the man's hard side.

"She's a feisty one, Dr. Romalotti, you're new squeeze?" the man who held her hissed with only slight amusement and then moved with her to the car.

"He's my friend," Sophie growled back at him, her green eyes flashing in anger.

"Well you're about to help your friend pay off his debt," her captor grumbled and shoved her inside the car. Dr. Romalotti followed her in, and sat beside her as the bald man folded his tall frame into the car and the door was shut behind him.

The windows were blacked out, but Sophie could bet that even if she could see out the glass people would still be walking with their heads down, unwilling to help, afraid to risk danger to themselves, the Gotham way.

The lurched into traffic and sped away, and Sophie glared at the two men across them, wishing harm and sending venom through the air at the bald man who glared back at her in the darkness.

"Sophie," Romalotti sighed, face in his hands, before he sighed once again and whipped out his cell phone.

"This is Dr. Romalotti, I've had something come up, if you need me, just call Spencer in, he owes me one," the doctor she thought she knew said into the phone and then snapped his phone closed. He then turned to her, a hardness in his eyes, "You're gonna keep that smart-aleckness of yours in check, your head and eyes down, and do what I tell you to. I appreciate that you wanted to help me, but now you're gonna have to listen to me."

"What have you gotten yourself into?" Sophie growled at him, but hugged her purse tight to her chest and stayed still.

After many twists and turns and what seemed like forever, they stopped and were shoved out of the car. They had stopped in front of a rundown building by the waterfront, but when they were led into the building it was filled with medical equipment and tools. Sophie blinked as she adjusted to the lights inside the building.

"Wash up," the bald man ordered them, and Doctor Romalotti moved to a sink like he'd done this all before. Sophie watched the bald man go to the back of the room where a man was moaning on a table and clutching his side. She shrugged out of her sweater, and removed her badge so no one else could read her title and her name. Tightening the honey blond hair in her ponytail, she eyed all of the guns on the hips of the men around her, before she followed Romalotti's lead and scrubbed in.

"You owe debts to the mob?" she growled under her breath at him.

"I never said I was perfect," he snapped back at her, "If you behave yourself you might just get out of this alive,"

"I was just trying to help an old man from being kidnapped and bullied, how was I to know that this was a previous arrangement?" she responded and they moved to the back of the building. Finding boxes of gloves, she and Francis gloved up before moving the man and unbuttoning his shirt, finding their patient to be a bloody mess and the imitation of his left side being swiss cheese.

The Doctor pointed her to a drawer and they began working, with Sophie mostly administering fluids and medications and finding surgical tools while Romalotti dug out bullets and assessed the extent of the damage. All the while Sophie was aware of the bald man intermittently prowling around them or sitting off to the side, and she felt his gaze on her like a heavy weight on her shoulders.

Hours later found them stitching the man up and Romalotti determining the patient no longer needed fluids. Sophie wasn't sure what the man had done, but considering his line of work, she took a small measure of glee in ripping out the IV line and slapping on a piece of gauze and tape to staunch the blood flow.

"What do I do with all of this?" Sophie asked Romalotti as the doctor peeled off his gloves and moved to wash up.

"Just throw it away over there," the bald man spoke, suddenly behind her, "We have more, it will be replaced."

Sophie jumped away and glared at him over her shoulder before moving to gather up everything carefully and throw it away as two other men pulled their patient off the table and out of the building, stumbling and moaning.

"They're gonna pull out those stitches," Sophie warned, watching them go.

The bald man had moved to the other side of their makeshift surgical table and had leaned up against a counter and shrugged.

"Is there anymore?" Romalotti asked, coming up next to Sophie.

The bald man nodded, and gestured two other men forward, one with a head laceration and the other with a bullet hole clean through his arm.

Sophie sighed loudly in exasperation as Romalotti requested coffee for both of them.

"What do you want?" the bald man asked.

"Black for me," Romalotti answered, already gloving up.

"A white mocha, with a side of freedom," Sophie griped, also changing up gloves and moving to take the wadded up shirt away from her next patient's head.

The bald man made a sound in the back of his throat and then gestured at someone else who left, presumably to get their coffee.

After about thirty stitches the coffee arrived, and Sophie sent her patient on his way before washing up and grabbing her cup. Romalotti was finishing with his patient as Sophie found a seat and sat, holding her cup between her hands and staring at the floor. Her hands were shaking, so she gripped the warm cup tighter and tried to think of what the hell she was gonna do now.

"Alright, let's get out of here," the bald man's now familiar voice commanded, and everyone started moving out.

"C'mon Sophie," Romalotti hissed, and pulled her up, but her legs were shaky and she couldn't.

"Give me a minute," she breathed and fought the urge to put her head between her knees.

"Go on Doctor, I've got our little nurse here," the bald man commanded, and pushed Francis out the door. The bald man moved around the room and shut the lights off that hadn't been visible from outside. He moved in the darkness like he could see still as clear as day, and then he was in-front of her.

"The coffee isn't going to do you any good if you don't drink it, now come on, stand up."

She shot him a glare to where she thought his face might be, before taking a deep breath and standing up. She felt his hand go to her elbow, firm, but not bruising like before and she snatched up her sweater and purse before he led her out the door into the world again, where the sun hadn't yet risen.

Sophie and Francis were ushered back into the car where she took her first sip, and was surprised to find a good cup of coffee in her hands.

"Now where can we drop you off, little nurse?" the bald man asked.

"In front of the hospital, where you took me," she snapped back, tiredly.

He nodded, and tapped on the glass behind him that separated their part of the car from the front.

Sophie focused on the coffee in her hands and drinking it, and before she knew it they were stopping, and the door was opening.

The bald man stepped out first, and then the other men in the car ushered her out.

Sophie breathed in the cold, city air and the red sign of the ED was a welcome familiar sight.

"What do we do with you now, Nurse Sophie?" the bald man asked at her side.

She flinched, he knew her name, probably heard the doctor saying it as they had talked in the car, maybe when he'd been giving her orders in the makeshift clinic?

"I can keep my mouth shut," she muttered, "Please just let me go home."

"Hmm," he walked around her, circling, and she shuddered, holding her sweater and purse in one arm, the coffee in her other hand.

"Just let her go, Victor," Doctor Romalotti muttered, now out of the car.

"The least we can do is pay her a fee for her help," the bald man almost purred, and Sophie shuddered again.

"I don't want your money, please, just let me go," she said, eyes on the cement, fighting tears.

"Just take it Sophie, that way you're even," Romalotti said, but he sounded far away to her ears.

Suddenly Sophie's hand was in a large, dry hand and it was taking away the coffee cup and putting a wad of bills into her hand. Sophie's head snapped up and she blinked away tears, "I don't want your money!" her voice cracked.

"Take it," the bald man said sternly, her eyes meeting his, and his hairless face was impassive and closed off, but his eyes were on her unbidden tears, rolling down her face.

"Sophie Summers, " the Doctor exclaimed exasperated, and she whirled on him.

"Shut up! Stop saying my name so carelessly!" she snapped at him, and chastened, Romalotti stepped back from her.

The bald man was still beside her, and she turned to him, head down.

"Can I go now?" she mumbled.

Silence was her answer.

"Well, can I ?" she pressed again, and looked up at him.

His face was emotionless as he looked at her, "You can go home now, Sophie Summers," he answered finally and Sophie walked away, fast and with her head down, shoving the wad of cash into her purse so that she wasn't a target for any more criminals tonight.

Sophie was too tired to jog, but nonetheless she tried to go as fast as she could, speeding by her favorite coffee shop, past closed restaurants and shops to her apartment building. Much nicer than the one she had lived in during college,Sophie punched in her code at the front door and a buzzer sounded as the door unlocked and she let herself in, fleeing to the elevators. Once safely inside her apartment, after fumbling for her keys and then locking the door behind her, she raced to the shower.

Scrubbing herself raw, she then jumped into bed and threw the covers over her head. Her stomach was sour and clenched in fear, and she willed the night away and sleep to come.

The next day was a day off, thank God, and after a restless sleep, Sophie woke up and moved to the couch where she had thrown her purse coming in the night before.

Sophie sunk to the floor next to the couch and counted out the bills. The paper nearly slid through her numb fingers….this was rent….for the month. She gaped at the cash in her hands and inwardly debated, take the money, which was surely covered in blood and gotten from the fruits of crime, or….do what with it exactly? Donate it to charity? Somehow that felt dirty and no answer seemed right….so instead she placed it in a ziploc bag and put it in her freezer. Sophie wondered if the bald man was worried if she would call the police, but then she thought of his shiny shoes, his suit that probably cost as much as her rent, the hardness in his eyes, and the bruising force of his grip. No, he probably wasn't afraid of anything, and he was probably waiting on the other side of a phone for a tip from some dirty mob cop about her call. Sophie knew she tended to be a pessimist, but she also considered herself a realist. Since the Wayne murder a few months ago, crime seemed to have doubled in Gotham, which was a scary thought. Sophie would probably be found dead in her apartment, robbed blind, and there would be no suspicion, just another unfortunate accident in crime-ridden Gotham. So instead, she put all of her focus into putting a wide radius between her and her phone and cleaning the hell out of her apartment. By the time night fell, she still hadn't found it in her to leave the apartment just yet, and do the grocery shopping she had planned on, so instead she ordered out. Thirty minutes later she had her music on low enough to hear the front door buzzer, and a good book just waiting to be read with some orange chicken. The buzzer sounded and Sophie moved to the panel by her door and pressed the button, allowing the take out person into the building, and waited. Moments later there was a knock on her door and peeking through the peep hole, Sophie opened the door for the delivery boy, and exchanged the money and tip for her food, and then closed the door. Locking the door behind her, she moved to the couch and fished her food out of the bag.

"No chopsticks or soy sauce!" she lamented as a knock sounded at her door again.

"My lucky day!" she sang as she unlocked the door and opened it, hand out for the forgotten goods. There stood the bald man.

Sophie retracted her hand as if bit, and stumbled over her feet to try and back up, smile falling off of her face with all of her color.

"Nurse Sophie Summers," the bald man greeted, leaning against the door jam, and effectively removing anyway she could close the door on his face.

"How did you…?" she asked, voice hoarse.

"Connections," he supplied, and then after a moment of silence, he slipped into her apartment, brushing by her side with his nice dark gray suit.

"Get out of my apartment," she begged, turning to follow him.

"You better close your door, anybody could just walk in," he said instead, and circled through her apartment like a dog investigating a new abode.

She stumbled to the door and closed it, then followed him as he made his circuit.

"What are you doing? You need to leave...before...before I call the police!"

"Your cell phone is on the couch, and the phone is in the kitchen," he stated as they circled back to the living room, "You'd never reach either before I would reach you."

The tone in his voice made her stop because it sounded like that is just what he wanted her to do, so instead she just looked at him, waiting. What was she waiting for, Sophie wondered. Death? Rape? Well she wasn't just gonna stand there and take it, she finally decided, and stomped her bare foot onto the wood floor that came with the nice 'safe' apartment building. "Get out of my apartment!"

"Sophie Summers…" he said, like he was feeling the words in his mouth, rolling them around, tasting them, and then he was in front of her. He stared at her in silence, his eyes rolling over her, and she felt his gaze like hands and it made her shiver. His hand reached out and she flinched away, but his fingers simply took a lock of hair and let it slide over the digits, examining its texture and color. Then his eyes were boring into hers again. She took a step back and he took a step forward. She realized belatedly in the silence that she liked the smell of his cologne, and that his eyes were a hard brown, like a Hershey's bar, and that they could darken...almost to black.

"Sophie Summers, from 3rd and Turner?" His breath was odorless as it blew over her face, and she stared confusedly at his hairless brow that was furrowed as he attempted to peer inside her through her eyeballs.

She wracked her brain with no idea of what he was talking about, until it came to her suddenly. "How do you know where I grew up?" she demanded, angry. "How much do you know about me? Why do you need to know that?"

He stepped back, and looked as stunned as she felt before they both heard a phone vibrate. The bald man reached into the chest of his suite and pulled out a slim phone, peered at the screen and then slipped it back into his pocket, a look of hardness and disdain on his face once again.

His dark brown eyes turned to her again and she opened her mouth to demand answers when he stepped forward so quickly it took her breath away. He had a long fingered hand on the left side of her face, fingers in her hair as he bent his head to her right ear.

"I will be back, Sophie Summers," he promised with a hushed whisper, and goosebumps rushed down the length of her body as her pulse raced. She heard him inhale deeply, his nose just above the pulse of her throat before he pulled away and moved towards the door.

"The hell….what's going on? I don't want you to come back! I want you to forget you ever snatched me off the street!" she demanded, following him to the door.

She grabbed his hand on the doorknob as he opened it to left himself out. He paused, eyes on their hands as her grip tightened.

"What's going on? I don't understand. I don't want-" she began, feeling hysterical, feeling confused at the way she reacted to him, had it been that damn long that she acted this pathetically?

He bent and whispered in her ear, his lips ghosting over her cheek before he slipped out the door and down the hall, and she was left staring at the wall in the hallway.

 _Victor Zsasz_ , he'd said.

The boy who used to walk her to school, the boy who used to crawl through her window.

 _I am Victor Zsasz_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

His words ran through her head over and over, while she went to the grocery store, while she showered, she simply couldn't forget. She spent the next few days thinking about the boy she had known, to the man he was now supposed to be. The Victor she had known had had dirty blond hair that fell unkempt over his forehead and the tops of his ears, with thick golden eyebrows. His eyes she guessed had been brown, but honestly she didn't remember their exact shade. She only remembered his pale skin, his malnourished appearance. The man she'd met nights ago now was full grown, made of muscle, his eyes were not sunken in, his cheekbones were not prominent.

When her cellphone buzzed Friday at three in the morning, she was lightly dozing after her ponderings. Sophie figured while she was pretend sleeping she could probably earn some money and help out her unit, so she rolled out of bed and got ready for work.

Sophie worked on autopilot, triaging and treating, and thanked the Lord that it was a typical day instead a crazy one. As she exited an exam room she spotted Doctor Romalotti and they started at each other for a moment, before continuing past each other, never uttering a word. When her day was finished she left, and headed in the direction of home, her thoughts still on him.

"Sophie!" came a yell behind her, "Wait up!"

She paused and looked over her shoulder to see Francis running up behind her, and stopping to catch his breath.

"You smoke too much," she muttered, as she paused on the cement, looking at him impassively.

"Sophe,Sophie, I'm sorry, I never meant you to get wrapped into this, to find out."

She let out a bitter laugh, "I'm sure. It's no business of mine anyway if you owe debts to the mob, Doctor Rome,"

"C'mon Sophe, don't sound like you've given up on me. You used to look up to me like my own kids never did, c'mon Sophe!" he pleaded.

"I just- oh crap," she finished, as another shiny black car pulled up alongside of them.

The door opened, and deja vu washed over her all over again as he stepped out, Victor.

"Christ Victor, " Francis began, but was cut off.

"I'm going to find another way home," Sophie muttered, but stood still.

"We're calling in one of your numerous debts, Doctor Romalotti. Your associate Miss Summers is welcome to join you again if she pleases, we were very satisfied with her work."

"Be smart Sophie, get out of here," Francis demanded, turning to her.

Sophie was silent as she looked between the two men. There was a tightness to Victor's eyes that hadn't been there the other day, the way he leaned against the car…

"I am smart, Doctor Romalotti, and I can make my own decisions thank you very much," she sniffed, and with her head high she ducked into the car, and caught Victor's lips twitch into what might have been a smirk. She heard Francis sigh behind her, and soon they were driving right back to where they had been before. As she and Francis washed and gloved up, she watched Victor gesture to a few men ushering them out the door, and then he began to make a call.

"So, who are we working on here?" Sophie asked, eyeing the guys standing around the surgery table.

"Let's go, I don't have all night, " Francis snapped at them, and one moved to Sophie while the other moved to the doctor.

A handful of stitches, one shoulder reset into its socket and a few packed wounds later, the crowd that had been there had dispersed, and two coffees were waiting on the wash counter. When Sophie took a sip, she found it was a white chocolate mocha again, and just as delicious as last time.

When she turned, Victor was taking off of his suit coat to reveal a button down long sleeve shirt that had blood soaking it's plum material down the right side of his chest. Sophie turned to set her cup down and wash her hands again to glove up, but when she had turned back around again it was his pants he was sliding off gingerly and then moving to sit on the side of the surgery table with nothing but his blood shirt and his tight black boxer briefs on. She fought her eyes from wandering and instead focused on the bullet hole in his right thigh that was oozing blood. Sophie and Doctor Romalotti approached him cautiously as Victor sat with hands on the side of the table.

"The bullet still in?" Romalotti asked after bring a light closer.

"Hm," Victor voiced, but his eyes were on Sophie, and they had been since he'd first emerged from the car.

"We should have helped you first," Sophie snapped at him, green eyes flashing angrily before she went to grab a scalpel and gauze.

"Sophie, grab me a syringe for the analgesic please, " Francis began and Sophie moved accordingly.

"Don't bother, let's just get it over with," Victor commanded the doctor, who paused, and after glancing at Sophie moved to the patient's right thigh.

"This is gonna hurt like hell," Francis preluded, and then the scalpel cut into his flesh, forceps ready in the doctor's other hand.

All the muscles tensed and stood up in his thigh and neck, but Victor didn't move, only starred now past Sophie, looking only to where he could see.

"Idiot," she whispered aloud as she bent to flush the bloody area with saline.

When the bullet finally landed with a plink onto the table next to him, his muscles began to relax and his white knuckled grip on the table loosened.

"Let's pack it, Sophe," Francis informed her, and Sophie nodded, grabbing the packing gauze and dressings. She crouched and after a bit more cleanup started packing the wound meticulously and taped a dressing over the opening.

"Your shirt, Victor," Francis began, moving towards the sink.

"You're free to go Doctor, Miss Summers can assist me by herself at this point. Sal, Chris, take him to the Boss. He wants to have a talk with the good Doctor. Leave me the other car, keys there." Sophie paused for just a moment, looking between Francis being pushed out by faceless men, and Victor who was looking decidedly smug as he began to unbutton his shirt.

"No." the doctor said, straining against the enforcers, " I won't be leaving without Sophie. I don't want you to try anything-"

"I assure you Francis Romalotti, Sophie Summers is safer with me than she would ever be with you," Victor growled with finality and with a murderous glare at his men, they pushed the doctor out.

When the door was closed behind them, Sophie finished washing up her hands and pulling on gloves. Turning she leaned against the counter as Victor peeled off his shirt from his right shoulder to show a nasty three and half inch cut at the top of his right pectoral.

"You might still need him here, depending on how deep it is," Sophie informed him, coming closer to examine the wound.

"It's superficial," Victor said with firmness, eyes on her face, so close to his own

She clucked her tongue and then moved to get more saline to clean up the area to better visualize his 'superficial' wound. As she mopped up the blood staining his skin, his muscular form emerged from the bloody mess and Sophie felt her pulse race again and focused on the task at hand.

Grabbing the sutures and her tools with some fresh gauze, she once again moved closer and began to stitch him up. His breathing was steady, but hers was ragged as she felt the heat of him, his thighs on either side of her, and his breath on the side of her face and neck as stitched him up.

"You went to juvie, but then the state motioned to try you as an adult for the brutality of...the crime," she finally managed.

"Mmm," he replied noncommittally.

"I wrote the judge, your lawyer said it would help, but I never got a reply, or anything," Sophie supplied.

"That's a public defender for you," he growled next to her ear.

"I was worried...when your letters stopped coming," she said after some more silence.

"I...became busy," he supplied, when she looked at him expectantly.

"With your...new...mob gang?" she guessed, and her answer was only a silent glare.

"When did you leave the neighborhood?" he asked instead, and this time, when she bent back to her work, she felt his fingers on her right hip.

She inhaled raggedly, and he seemed to like her reaction because he pulled her as close as he was able to for her to still manage her work. When Sophie finally regained her senses she supplied, "I was fifteen when you were arrested, and my Aunt died two years later. I left then. I wrote you a letter," she whispered.

Sophie finished the last stitch and cut the suture, but stayed where she was, unsure of how she felt about the fingers of his left hand creeping over the swell of her butt, the way his chest rose and fell against her own. She licked her lips, and put her gloved hand on his right leg gingerly to break away, but his left hand moved to grab her right wrist, and moved her hand up, her wrist to his nose and he moved her hand to press against his face.

"You used to walk me to school and back," she whispered, looking into his dark eyes.

A rumble in his chest was her only answer, and then, "Well, you followed me for awhile, and when you noticed that I knew you were there, then you asked if you could walk with me."

"You never talked," she answered, breathless. "I...I remember the fridge," she said, her voice cracking.

The moment broke with what could have been a shattering of glass as he moved away from her quickly.

"Victor I-" she began, stripping off her gloves to follow his path as he too quickly shoved his right arm back into the bloody shirt sleeve with force.

"No more remembering, Sophie," he growled loudly, and threw on his coat before reaching for his pants.

She moved back as if slapped, realizing that she had gone too far for him, and although the whole situation was messed up and she really had no idea what was going on, she was contrite.

Sophie cleaned up in silence as he pulled on his pants and began turning off the lights. He grabbed her coffee for her as they left and he locked the door behind them. He surprised her by opening her door and handing her the coffee as she sat in the front seat. Sophie watched with wide eyes as he slammed the door shut and then prowled around to the driver's side and flinging open the door, slid in.

The street lights slid like liquid over his hairless face as he drove her back home, his right fingers drumming a rhythm on his right thigh as his left hand turned the steering wheel this way and that.

Before she knew it, Victor had pulled to a stop in front of her apartment. He looked resolutely forward, and wouldn't meet her gaze as she stared at him in silence. Finally, looking out the window, she sighed and moved to get out of the car. With a swift movement that left him wincing slightly, his right hand pulled out another wad of cash from his jacket and held it out to her.

"For your services," he muttered.

Sophie stared at the cash and felt anger and pity well up in her chest, "I don't want your money, Victor," she snapped.

"Take it," he snarled, eyes flashing over to her face.

"No," she retorted, flinging open the door.

Anger twisted his face, before he shut it off and closed himself to her, turning once again towards the street.

Sophie inhaled a large breath of fresh air as she sat on the edge of the seat and then turning back, she planted a soft kiss to his right cheek and he went utterly rigid in his seat.

" I remember the boy who waited with me at the mall all day on my sixth birthday for my mom to show up," she confessed, because no one had ever done anything that noble or nice for her before, or since.

This time, when she moved away and left the car, she could feel his eyes on her back like an inferno, that scorched her to her soul.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It wasn't until Sophie got into her apartment that she realized that neither her or Doctor Romalotti had established when Victor's wound would need to be repacked, which would be at least twice a day, if not three. Locking the door behind her, she hurriedly dug out her cell from her purse to find numerous calls from the doctor himself. With her thumb she pressed the button to return his call, ignoring the opportunity to listen to his voicemails, and then moved into the bedroom.

"Sophie!" Francis answered, relief heavy in his voice, "Are you okay? I tried to stay, but-"

"I'm fine," she assured him, "home safely," moving around the room to collect her pajamas.

"You shouldn't be alone with that monster," he said gravely, and Sophie felt her eyes burn with what may have been tears, but her heart hardened at his words.

"I can make my own decisions, Dr. Rome." Sophie reminded him, and moving into the bathroom flipped on the light switch.

"I'm serious Sophie, don't get hard headed on me about this. He's dangerous, more dangerous than you know. He's the Don's guard dog, his executioner-...I...I shouldn't have said that…" the doctor ended with a whisper, "I shouldn't drag you any deeper into this."

Sophie looked at the dark shadows under her eyes, the blood on her scrubs and saw her lips move "I think that point is moot now, Doctor."

He sighed heavily, and she heard him mutter apologies as she gazed at herself, and wondered when her reflection had changed. Who was that woman in the mirror? For the past few years her life had been a routine that changed little, a life with no excitement or surprises, and Sophie had thought she had liked it that way. Now, as she gazed at herself in the mirror, she saw a pink tinge to her cheeks, a light in her tired eyes that hadn't been there before. Was she a secret adrenaline junkie? She could feel her heart beat a tireless rhythm under her breast, and although her conscience was burdened, her heart was light. Sophie wondered what she was becoming, or if she was simply seeing what had always been there, hiding in a complacent, dull life.

"Do you have a way to get a hold of Victor, Doctor?" she asked.

"I have a - why? Why do you need to get a hold of him?" the doctor demanded.

"We have to keep up on his dressing changes, " she reminded him, but there was a twinkle in her eye, a curve in that corner of her mouth.

"I'll find a way to get a hold of him," Romalotti assured her, a slight twinge of fear in his voice, "but Sophie, I don't want you caught up in anymore of this, maybe you should find someplace else...pack up and disappear,"

"Give up my life because I got caught up in your mess?" she scoffed, but really, what life had it been?

Silence was her answer, and she inhaled deeply, "I'm sorry Francis, I am. I will think about it, really. Just make sure you get a hold of him, we don't want to get in trouble, right?" she asked with a nervous laugh, and then they hung up.

 _Aunt Carol had told her where to go, the path to take to the school the night before and Sophie had replayed the words over and over again in heard all through the night so she wouldn't forget. However, by the time the sun had risen and Sophie had woken up to ringing of the alarm, pieces of the information she had been told were already gone. Her little heart raced in fear and she dressed hurriedly, grabbed the lunch that Aunt Carol had made before she left for work and walked out the door, remembering to turn the lock on the door before she raced out. Sophie looked in every direction, but couldn't see what looked like a school anywhere. Just when she was about to cry and go hide on the porch until Aunt Carol got back, the door of the house next to hers opened and a boy walked out. A small woman ushered the boy out, laid a quick kiss to the top of his head and then very quickly and very quietly closed the door behind him. The boy stood on the porch and looked at the door for just a minute, and then turned, walking away. He was silent, and might have looked her way once, before he was walking past her house and down the block. Sophie eyed his brown paper sack lunch, the faded red backpack on his shoulder and taking a deep breath, she decided to follow him and hope for the best. That day he led to where she was supposed to go, unknowing. The path they had taken was full of twists and turns and Sophie knew she would never make it there and back on her own, so she always looked for him in the crowd of departing students at the end of the day, and woke up early so she could be on the porch to watch him go, to follow him down the right path. The day he stopped halfway to school, she stopped as well, a visible distance behind him. He turned and had looked at her silently. Eyes studying her under the shadow of his eyebrows, under the ragged edges of his bangs._

 _Sophie twisted her little hands on the handle of her lunchbox, before walking forward and spoke to him softly, hopeful, but full of the fear of rejection._

" _My name's Sophie, I live next door. Can I walk with you to school?"_

 _He stared at her a little longer, before he nodded and turned, and this time his pace was slower, and they walked together._

Sophie woke tangled up in her covers and the buzzer going off in the living room signaling that someone wanted in. Blinking sleepily at the clock, she cursed softly before rolling out of bed and muttering about her day off.

Sophie pressed a finger to the button on the panel, "Hello? Who is it?"

Static and silence answered her. Sophie's eyes were heavy as she waited, then sighed loudly and pressed the button again, "Listen, you either identify yourself, or your butt can wait for someone else to buzz you up," she snapped.

"Summers," came the response, and suddenly the tiredness was evaporating. She pressed the buzzer to let him up and dashed back to her bedroom to grab some pajama shorts, and tugged at the t-shirt she wore to bed, running a quick hand through her hair as she dashed back to the door just as he knocked, loudly.

Hurriedly she unlocked the door and opened it, ushering him inside.

"Hey, I have neighbors you know, not so loud," she hissed, closing the door behind him and eyeing the door across the hall. Ms. Norris was a bit of nosey Nelly and also a frequent complainer to the landlord about anyone and anything.

Leaning against the door, she turned to look at him, the sunrise outside starting to leak through the blinds.

His hands were in his pockets as he stood there nonchalantly, once again in a professionally tailored suit and shining black shoes. He smelled fresh and clean, his cologne pleasant to her nose. His eyes were on her Gotham University black shirt, and the matching sunshine yellow shorts that peeked from underneath the hem.

"Romalotti told me I would need the wound re-packed two to three times a day depending on drainage," he supplied.

"Are we going to the...clinic?" she supplied, pulling back her hair and moving to the bedroom, willing her heart to stop racing.

"No time, this needs to be quick," he grumbled, following her, unbidden.

Sophie frowned, "Well I only have a small first aid kit, so I might have what we need if we're lucky. Go to the bathroom, sit on the edge of the tub," she commanded and finding a hair tie, she tied her hair back.

Sophie heard Victor's belt buckle as he slipped out of his slacks and heard the bathroom light go on, his movements quick and sure, like that one tour through her apartment had been cemented in his mind and he knew her home as surely as she did.

The boxer briefs were grey this time she noted quickly before ducking her head in the pantry and removing the first aid kit. Sophie washed her hands and then set about removing the old dressing and packing with nimble fingers, questions on her tongue, but willing herself silent as she assessed the wound bed and amount of drainage on the dressing.

Finding just enough gauze, she cleaned and then packed the wound gingerly and used the last piece to cover the wound and then placed tape over it.

"I'll have to go get more supplies," she said aloud, standing from her crouch, and watched his nostrils flare as he inhaled, but made no move to rise.

"I thought you were in some kind of rush," she said irritably, moving to wash her hands, her eyes flickering to him continuously.

He stared at her silently, and for just a moment she was whisked back to the guest bedroom in Aunt Carol's house and using a washcloth to blot the blood away from the cut above his left eyebrow. Her green eyes found the faint scar on his hairless brow.

"How about the incision on your chest?" she asked, and moved forward to inspect it.

He stood and waved her hands away abruptly, "It's fine," he said gruffly, and then moved to put his slacks back on. Sophie realized she should probably give him some kind of privacy, but instead she just crossed her arms and stared at him.

"I would try to favor that leg as much as possible," she said, and knew it was mostly for her own self, because wherever he was going, he probably wouldn't be gentle with anything.

"Today is my day off," she informed him after no reply, "So I will expect to see you twice more today, I'll be here," she offered.

"I will attempt to come here at least once more today," he rebuffed her, moving to stand suffocatingly close to her, to straighten his tie in the mirror and adjust his jacket.

She frowned and opened her mouth to scold him, but saw his eyes darkly reflecting in the mirror and closed her lips again.

"Well I work tomorrow, so I can't help you then," she muttered instead, and turned out of the bathroom, breathing quickly.

There was no answer as he followed her out, turning off the light behind them. His footsteps stopped in the middle of her bedroom, and she turned in the doorway, watching him look over the tangle of the white sheets and comforter on her bed.

"Do you remember that last night?" he said, his voice full of gravel, his eyes turning to her and glittering in the darkness of the bedroom. The sun was shining now through the blinds in the living room and silhouetted her.

Sophie thought on his words, searching her memory, the details, but she knew of what he spoke. She had never forgotten that night.

 _It had been nearly a week after he had voiced his intentions to kill his father that it had finally happened. A huge commotion had sounded from the Zsasz house next door, and Sophie had waited anxiously at her open window, eyes glued to the window directly across from hers, the phone cold in her clammy hand. Then silence, and it had been deafening._

" _Victor," she had whispered, "Victor!"_

 _Sophie had pleaded, begged God that it hadn't ended the way she had feared it would, begged that he was alive, that he was alive._

 _Tears welled in her eyes as nothing in the house moved, and still the silence reigned. She hiccupped with grief and looked down at the phone in her shaking hands, and with a sob she quickly dialled the numbers and brought the phone to her ear. It rang for an unbearably long time, and just when the other line clicked to life, she saw him move to stand on the other side of his window. Sophie quickly hung up and tossed the phone away, leaning out the window, a smile on her face, and tears of joy replacing her ill-placed grief._

 _He lifted his window in a smooth movement and slipped out with a familiar grace. Sophie's eyes saw the dark black shadows left behind on the white window sill in his wake, saw the shadows that were not shadows on his face, his body, his hands as he walked to her window, calm and quiet. Her stomach twisted, but her lips only whispered his name again, "Victor, I'm so glad you're okay!"_

 _He no longer had to jump and scramble up to her window, but instead he stood there just outside, cuts on his face and an eye the was already swelling shut. His breathing was ragged, but his face was calm despite the abuse that had been patterned there._

 _Sophie leaned further out the window, resting her abdomen on the window sill, and reaching out to lightly graze her fingers down the injured side of his face._

 _She held out her other hand, to help into her window, but he made no move to accept the gesture. He stared at her in silence, but she could hear the phone she had dropped ringing, and sirens were coming their way._

" _I called, I thought...," she supplied, and felt so ashamed, "I'm sorry," she whispered, but his face remained impassive._

 _He placed one glistening wet hand on her windowsill, and the other on her cheek, and she gripped his arm and shoulder tightly, fear filling her heart._

" _Victor?" she inquired, "It's over, it's all gonna be okay now," she said, but it sounded hollow to even her own ears._

 _Victor Zsasz, a few hours shy of his sixteenth birthday, pulled her face down to his, and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, her first kiss and his._

 _Butterflies became a hurricane in Sophie, and she wanted nothing more to pull him through her window, and let him kiss her some more, do what teenagers full of hormones and adrenaline do, but instead he continued his tender kiss until it became firm and she felt like she was gonna die from lack of air, when he pulled away._

" _Goodbye," he said breathlessly, and with one last look, his hand slid from her face, and he turned, running away into the night. Sophie watched as his shadow disappeared, and then moved to the bathroom where she turned on the light and saw a bloody handprint on her face. She grabbed a wash cloth and scrubbed her face raw, the sirens sounding like they were almost right outside her door now. Sophie rushed to her window and scrubbed at the bloody handprint on her window, but a smudge remained, so she raced to the laundry room and grabbed the bleach, and utterly ruining the washcloth she moistened it with the harsh detergent and scoured the windowsill._

 _They were outside her house now, Aunt Carol would be home in a few hours, and Sophie sprinted to the laundry room, replaced the bleach and threw the washcloth in the trash, and quickly washed her hands before racing to the front door just as the first knock came._

" _This is Gotham City police, we received a 911 call from this address," the cops began, and Sophie opened the door, and found she was shaking from head to toe._

" _Next door," she croaked, "Something has happened next door. There was a lot of noise, and I'm worried about the boy next door, his dad, he hurts him," she said, tears filling her eyes, feeling her face redden and obscuring the cover up of her crime from their eyes as the red and blue lights flashed over her and the inside of the house._

" _Please, help him," she had begged the officers._

"I remember, " Sophie whispered.

Victor Zsasz came up close to her then, his chin in her line of sight, his body a melting heat against her own.

"So many opportunities wasted, climbing through your window seeking only shelter," he rumbled, close to her ear, and lightning seemed to coarse through her, making her chest tingle, the juncture of her thighs tremble.

"Victor," she whispered, and her eyelids lowered, hoping, needing him to kiss her. He pressed her against the doorframe, roughly and firmly, so that could feel the hardness of his body, the muscles that rippled under those nice suits of his. One of his hands was curving her hip into his pelvis, and the other was angling her jaw up to his. This was kiss was rough, full of demanding and want. She ached for him terribly, and her hands trembled as they smoothed over his chest, down to his sides.

When he broke away, her nipples ached and pressed against her shirt in a way that should have made her feel terribly embarrassed, and her legs quivered as she used the doorframe to keep her upright.

In a flurry of movement he was whirling from her and stalking out the door, slamming it behind him, and she was left sliding down the door frame, her fingertips on her bruised lips, marveling.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 _The sound of his window snapping open and the scramble of movement outside woke fourteen year old Sophie up with just enough time to stumble out of bed to her own window and slide it up to let Victor begin his climb up. They both heard the thunder of his father's footsteps, the bellow he made as he moved through the house drunk on rage and liquor. It was a cold winter night and Sophie was wearing a white flannel nightgown that covered her from her neck to her wrists and fell to her ankles. It wasn't what twelve year old girls dreamed of wearing or having their crush see them in, but that was the last thing on her mind as she pulled Victor's kicking legs inside and pushed him down between her and the wall just as his dad appeared in the room opposite of hers._

 _Sophie could feel Victor trembling through his thin clothing, whether from fear or cold she didn't know, pressed up against her as her mind whirled, searching for an action._

 _Cornelius Zsasz's crazed eyes seemed to glow in the shadows of his son's room, and pierced Sophie's soul. Sophie thought quickly and turned her face from the man to look out towards the street and then back again._

" _Did that little shit just climb out this window?" he bellowed, and threw his graying blonde head out the window to follow Sophie's line of sight._

 _Nothing but the darkness of the street was there, but still she looked out and back again, her own trembling not an act._

" _Well girl, what'd ya see?" the man snarled, and Sophie couldn't speak, but felt Victor's hands move around her, his grip still trembling, but she could feel him move, coming to her rescue._

 _She placed a small hand on Victor's shoulder stopping him, hidden from view under the window, and instead retreated back inside the window, shyly, head down._

" _Stupid cow," the old man muttered before turning to look at the street, "Victor, you better come back here, boy!" he shouted, before slamming the window back down._

 _Sophie pulled the curtains across her window, before sinking to her knees, and wrapping her arms around Victor as his trembling started anew._

 _She pressed his blonde head into her neck and and gingerly ran her hands down his back, checking for injuries, wary to cause him any more hurt._

" _Mom's in the hospital again," he supplied muffled against her neck._

" _Did he-" she began, but he shook his head furiously against her neck, and she heard him sniffle back any tears._

" _It's the cancer this time, the radiation didn't work," he said, his voice cracking, and that night they didn't crawl into bed and hold each other, only leaned against the wall as wept together in anticipation of his mother's impending death._

Victor didn't come back that night, even though she had gotten the supplies they would need from the local drug store earlier. She waited up for him with her living room light on, but eventually had to call it a night and tried to sleep before her shift.

The next three days passed, leaving her to chew on her fingernails in anxiousness and stare out the window of the break room, looking out into the city, wondering and sending prayers his way.

As her shift ended, Sophie walked out of the ER head down, listening as people discussed Mayor James' television announcement that the Arkham District was to be refurbished and re-opened. Sophie shuddered, remembering her nursing class doing a walk-through of the abandoned facility's medical unit. 'These conditions were deplorable and unacceptable for both patients and medical staff, unsafe for everyone,' Sophie remembered her instructor saying as the class moved through, fearfully eyeing the surgical tables, beds and gurneys with their four point restraints, the dirty straight jackets still hanging on some walls.

Sophie walked fast to her apartment, and when she climbed the steps up to her building, she noticed Victor leaning against the wall by the panel listing the occupants last names.

"Hello," she said dumbly, stopping and blinking at him.

He inclined his head, but said nothing, so she moved forward and pressed in her code, mindful of his eyes on her and the movement of her fingers before the buzz rang and they went in. They took the elevator up together in silence and he followed her to apartment. Inside he slid off his jacket and neatly folded it in half before draping it over her couch. With deft hands, he removed his cell phone from the jacket's inner pocket and slipped it into his slacks with a brief glance. Sophie stood leaning against the front door and slipping off her shoes before moving any farther into the apartment and throwing her shoes into the front closet.

"Help yourself to any food," she said awkwardly, as she watched him begin to unbutton his shirt and move towards the kitchen. "I'm gonna go shower," she mumbled, moving to the bedroom, looking over her shoulder as he opened her fridge and peered in disinterestedly.

Sophie moved to flutter about her room, sexy pajamas, regular pajamas...but definite pajamas were in order, and did she even own sexy pajamas? Running into the bathroom and closing the door behind her, she started the shower and jumped in.

The cold water turned warm and pelted her shoulders, and she gave in to the relaxing warmth. She was soaping up her hair after shaving her legs when she heard the door open, and paused. Just as she was about to peek her head around the opaque curtain, the other side opened behind her and in he stepped.

He was pretty magnificent, if she said so herself. The definition of his muscles was stark against her white shower, and her eyes were drawn to among other things the incision on his chest. The stitches had been removed and instead a scab was in it's place, the skin pink but approximated, it was healing nicely. Glancing down at the wound on his thigh, she found that sutures had been used to close a much smaller incision than the last time she'd seen it. Then her eyes saw the tallies, covering the left pectoral. Sophie moved forward and touched them, though the raised scars were jagged in certain spots, some were clean lines in an a very clear, organized pattern of tallies.

She ran her fingers over them, counting, and her eyes flickered up to his questioning. His eyes were impossibly dark as he looked down at her, studied as her fingertips gently grazed three new tallies above his left nipple. Twenty-nine, she counted, and stepped back, turning from him and what those marks could mean.

Sophie felt his eyes on her as she scrubbed the soap from her hair, felt him moving behind her as he grabbed the soap and cleaned himself. They switched places under the shower head seamlessly, and glancing at him once more, she slipped out of the shower and grabbed a towel for herself, before grabbing one for him, but staring at its fluffy beige material in silence.

Moments later the shower turned off and the curtain opened, and he stood there, arms crossed and uncovered. Her lust was still there, burning its evidence across her cheekbones, but as she looked up at him through the wet tangles of her hair, she made no move to act on it, eyes flickering up over dark golden curls to the tallies on his muscular chest, smooth as the head on his shoulders. Sophie fought tears, fighting a disappoint welling in her, her mind still going back to that boy who had tapped on her window and asked if he could hide inside from his dad.

Sophie held out the towel, and after a moment he took it, but his other hand had snaked out and grabbed the hand that offered it, as her other hand clutched her own towel around her.

"I was charged for my father's murder as a man because I caved in his skull and stabbed him seventy-two times with my mother's kitchen knife," Victor said as emotionlessly as if he was telling her the weather outside. "I was placed in Blackgate Penitentiary with rapists and murderers. I killed my cell mate and had inadvertently killed someone who had been troublesome to Don Carmine Falcone. I was welcomed into the fold, and after further proving my worth to him, the Don hired a lawyer who helped absolve me of my father's murder in self-defense, and for the inmates I killed, I got credit for time served. At twenty I emerged from Blackgate a new man, the boy you knew did not come back out again, Sophie Summers. Don Falcone put a gun in one hand and a knife in the other, and unleashed me on the world in his name, to pay my debt for his kindness. I am good at what I do, I enjoy what I do, and I am not ashamed to be what I am."

Sophie felt the hot tears on her face, and nodded, trying to pull her hand from his firm grasp. Victor emerged from the shower, and stood in front of her. He placed her hand on his chest, the right side and then moved to brush her hair back from her face, and trailed rough fingers down her neck to her shoulder.

"Don't cry, Sophie," he rumbled, "I hate your tears,"

' _Don't cry Sophie, it'll be okay. This is the way it's always been_ '.

"You are as beautiful me as you were when you leaned out your window and saved me," he continued, bending his head down to her.

"I couldn't save you," she whispered, eyes raising to his lips, "I didn't save you,"

Then his lips were on hers, tender at first as she remembered, and then demanding and searing. His hands pulled away her towel and trailed over her body, over her breasts and down her ribs to her belly, the curve of her hipbones. A noise rumbled up from his throat and he moved quickly, bending to put her hips against his left shoulder and standing with her over his shoulder and striding quickly out of the bathroom to her bed. Before Sophie knew it she was being laid across it and he was moving over her, with a strange gentleness, but firm intent. Her fingers moved to trace over his hairless brow, trace the structures of his face, the jumping of muscles in his jaw and neck as he bent over her and ran his teeth along her neck, across her collarbone and lower.

Sophie gasped as she felt his teeth, felt his fingers moving over her hips, tracing her curves, cupping her bottom as she lifted her hips to his, biting her lip with a moan.

She felt him situate between her thighs, and when she looked up at him, she saw the man that had stared out at her from behind his bruised eyes that night outside her window.

"Victor, she breathed, "Kiss me again,"

He obliged, and Sophie spiraled into pleasure. When his mouth wasn't on hers, she was placing kisses to his sweat dotted brow, languishing in the feeling of his forehead against her collarbone, the puffs air that marked his groans as he breathed against her breast, the startling sharpness of his teeth.

He felt impossibly right, and Sophie never knew that sex could be so amazing and world turning. When her world exploded in stars, and she heard him roar a shout into the pillow next to her head, she closed her eyes to treasure the moment. Victor Zsasz was her childhood love, her girlhood crush, her first kiss, a lover in only her dreams up to this point. Sophie wondered if she could be his destiny.

Some time later found them under her white comforter, her head on the right side of his chest and his arm wrapped loosely behind her neck.

"Which one is he?" she finally worked up the courage to ask.

He was still underneath her cheek for a few minutes, before his left hand came over and his middle finger hovered above a jagged incision just to the left of his sternum. Sophie ran her own finger over it for a moment, and then pressed a kiss to her finger and then pressed the tip to the scar. Before his hand fell away, she grabbed at his hand and studied the black skull ring on his finger. She hadn't paid it much mind, but it was an ever present darkness on his hand. It was a menacing bauble, but it seemed to suit his long fingers, the roundness of his knuckles. He left her fingers intertwine with his own as she liked, before she relinquished her grip and drifted off to sleep.

Although his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, it was rare for him to sleep, so Victor stared at Sophie's ceiling in silence, acutely aware of her body spooned against the length of his.

How many times had his teenage self dreamed of this? That person was long dead to him, so he no longer recalled, but he was left with a feeling of familiarity from something he had never experienced before with Sophie. He recalled that he had often visualized them married at some point when he was younger and stupid. He would be running Zsasz Refrigeration and Sophie would run the register and there would always be smiles and laughter and no crying or screaming behind closed doors. Victor's loathing for that young man and his idyllic daydreams was murderously intense. To only aim to be an appliance handy-man, how pathetic, but he knew that it had once been a very real wish of his, and he had hazy memories of he and Sophie playing amongst the refridgerator parts and pieces in his backyard and acting out just that.

His phone buzzed on the side table to his left, and he reached out and grabbed it, bringing it up to his face to recognized the number and the read the message there. Swiftly he untangled himself from Sophie's soft limbs and slid from the bed. He dressed in silence and straightened his attire in front of the mirror, his skull ring flashing in the moonlight that filtered through a window. Tucking his phone into his pocket, Victor found a fast food brochure under a magnet on her fridge and finding a pen in her purse on the counter, he wrote a quick note and left it there before slipping out the door.

 _I require a key. -V_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

The next few weeks were the most interesting and thrilling of Sophie's life. She'd obliged and gotten him a spare key for her apartment and made an attempt to buy some extra groceries that Victor would be able to eat if he cared to. After returning home from work one day she found two suits hanging in her closet along with a pair of shoes, socks and underwear folded neatly away. She smiled like a fool through her next three days, butterflies in heart.

Victor came and went with no pattern, but when he was home it seemed he wanted to have in her every way known to man, on every surface in her apartment, and she was only too eager to comply.

When she'd get picked up on the curb with Doctor Romalotti she would try not to let her gaze linger too long on his butt, and fought the urge to climb up his body and plaster her lips to his. She'd smile anyway as she and the Doctor talked and went about their tasks, because she she could feel his eyes on her, and that was enough. When he'd usher the mafiosi and the doctor out the door ahead of him, anticipation hummed through her being as he locked the door behind them and moved to bend her over a counter, or press her up against a wall.

She loved to sigh his name, and the way he'd always rumble in his chest in reply.

And then a drug by the name of Viper hit the streets. It led to a some of the worst times in the ED that Sophie had ever seen. Every night was filled with people coming in on gurneys dead or dying with the lethal drug coursing through their veins. There were takedowns happening every night, and the hospital had placed at least two or three officers in the ER every shift to assist. Tina had gotten a broken nose during her shift, a tech ended up with a black eye, and on her first night in the second week of the excitement Sophie got nailed in the jaw by a meaty fist as she pushed the plunger, sending a large dose of haldol and lorazepam into the patient's system.

Sophie was given a bag of ice, a short exam determining nothing was broken, and then back out onto the floor she went for the rest of her shift. Victor didn't show up that night or the next, so she was able to ice most of the swelling away without having that awkward conversation. That Wednesday had the news station blaring in the lobby that the GCPD had taken out the supplier of Venom and that without a manufacturer and seller, the cases would quickly disappear. The ED staff gave a 'huzzah' as they once more performed a takedown.

When Sophie exited the ED late as she had every night that week, her arm was around the shoulders of Ruth one of her CNAs for the day and they congratulated each other at a week of work done, and made each other promise not to pick up any more shifts. Sophie caught site of Victor cracking his knuckles and adjusting his skull ring further along the path, so she said goodbye to Ruth and walked his way.

"Romalotti said that your unit has been busy of late, said you probably couldn't peform any services for us after the days you've been having. You're nearly two hours late," he growled as she stopped beside him.

"Boy, was he right, " she laughed, and knew the moment his eyes found the discolored bruise on her jaw.

"It's alright," she supplied, taking his rigid cold hand into hers and pulling him after her, "We've had some experience with the drug Venom. Heard of it?"

Rage was rolling off of him in waves, and his grip on her hand was stiff, but unrelenting.

"Victor, I'm fine, really," she assured him and pulled him into the coffee shop on the way home. Sophie ignored the questioning and accusing looks cast her and Victor's way, and murmured happily as she claimed her reward for a rough week, a large white chocolate mocha with whip cream on top. Once more she claimed his rigid grip with her own and pulled him out of the shop and down the street.

"That doesn't look like nothing," he said through gritted teeth.

"It's healing, it just looks ugly. Hey, at least I didn't get my nose broken like Tina. The guy tried, but ho ho, not this gal, I'm gonna come up to you from behind with a needle, where ya can't see me!" she laughed to herself at her nurse humor.

When they got up to her apartment, he snatched her purse from her and grabbed her cell phone, slamming in digits with his large fingers, fury etched into his face. Finally he shoved the phone at her, "Call me next time," he snapped.

"Oo, I get your number," she said with a smile and a roll of her eyes, and moved to the shower, not feeding into the situation.

He was a silent, icy presence against her back, and she cleaned in the shower she felt his eyes do a once-over, and then his hands replaced his eyes, feeling for any possible injury.

"See? Just a bruise," she comforted, and put his large hand over her jaw gingerly. He pulled his hand back as if burned, and exited the shower and her apartment faster than she could comprehend. Sophie swallowed, walking around the apartment in a towel, silent.

Finding her cell phone, she dialed the number he'd entered and listened to it ring.

"Don't call me unless absolutely necessary," his voice snapped at her from the other side of the line.

"Fine, you ass," she hissed back and hung up.

Victor was absent for awhile, but this time Sophie didn't know if it was some kind of punishment or if it was work related. Doctor Romalotti called one night asking if she wanted to make extra cash, telling her that her presence had been requested, but not by whom. She declined the offer, figuring if he wanted to be stubborn she couldn't meet his attitude with her own, toe to toe. For the first time in her life though, Sophie began to read the papers. She read about the mob war between Maroni and Falcone, about a deal that was supposed to bring some long needed peace to Gotham's streets.

One day the articles read that an art gallery owner and girlfriend of a Gotham City detective had been abducted and terrorized, so maybe the mob wars weren't going away after all. After two and half weeks she caved, and texted him, 'are you okay?'.

'Fine', came the immediate reply, and her relief cancelled out her desire to reach through the phone and throttle him.

That night as she stared up at her ceiling, Sophie attempted to remember Victor's mother. Mona Zsasz was a small woman with a heart shaped face and a cap of red curls that had framed her face. Her son had inherited her deep brown eyes, and her skin had always been pale, and dusted with bruises in Sophie's memory. She'd survived so many years of abuse to end up succumbing to breast cancer. Mona had always looked kindly on Sophie, but she was a woman of few words, as their house was either one of silence or screams. Recalling her made Sophie shudder and feel cold inside. She wondered if when Victor remembered his mother, if he was filled with rage or sadness, loneliness or emptiness.

Sophie woke in the dead of the night, and when turned, Victor was there, laying on his back behind her, still and naked in the bed. His breathing was strong and steady, and she reached out and touched his arm, then stroked his cheek. His face turned slowly into her touch, and then his hands were moving and pulling her over to him, on top of him.

Their breathing became eager as she moved herself onto him and leaned down to claim his lips her own, their hips rolling restlessly against each other.

Her fingers trailed over new scars raised up on his left arm as he moved to grip her hips and brought her down hard, and she felt him spasm beneath her in pleasure.

Sophie bit her lip and laughed breathlessly, bending down to place a kiss on his cheek, at the corner of his lips and ran her nails down his chest lightly before rolling off and collapsing at his side. Only the sounds of their ragged breathing filled the room when his phone buzzed on the table next to them.

Sophie groaned, "Ugh, turn it off," she moaned, but when she moved to roll over and throw an arm across his chest, he had rolled off the bed.

"Stay, you just got here," she grumbled sitting up in bed.

"I do not answer to you, Sophie Summers," Victor growled and disappeared into the bathroom, the shower springing to life a moment later. As Sophie rolled her eyes and flopped back into the bed, her cell buzzed to life with a call. Minutes later found Sophie in her closet pulling on scrubs and Victor emerging from the bathroom, head and face freshly shaven, naked as the day he was born. He stood next to her, and piece by piece dressed the part of a made man, ending with a firm adjustment of his cuffs and tie.

She felt his eyes on her as she slipped passed him and moved to the bathroom mirror to braid her hair.

"I thought you had to leave?" she said aloud to the silent apartment, having not heard the door open and close.

"You work today," he said aloud, too proud for it to be a question.

"I have to save lives while you end them," she offered bitterly, and brushed past him in the darkness of the bedroom.

He said nothing as she threw a quick lunch together, and they walked out the door in silence, parting ways outside the building.

As Sophie walked to work, her heart pondered. Victor was the man she shared her bed with, once he had been the boy she loved, but was he the man she could love? Should love? Girlfriends and boyfriends, spouses got into fights all the time, and as two different people they were bound to clash sometimes. When they were younger, they had been two silent and fragile children, putting their heads down and doing what was safest for themselves, for each other. Now they were full grown, adults who had visions for themselves, goals they wanted to accomplish, and they were much more opinionated than the voiceless selves they had once been. Victor's road had taken him from being a victim to the predator, from the weak to the dangerous. Sophie found that her road had taken her still within the confines of the same city, helping people that in her mind's eye were all a pale, hollow-eyed little boy who looked at her beseechingly before he entered his home. Sophie found that her road had started with abandonment, and she had continued on the path of loneliness until he had entered her life once again.

But what was the price of her happiness, of feeling not so alone? Sophie wondered, was it worth it?

Work ended, and after four codes that resulted in living patients being cared for in the ICU, the day-shift decided to congratulate themselves with some libations. They met at a nice high-end bar in downtown Gotham, Mooney's, and got a nice table. Sophie and her co-workers laughed and drank, toasting each other and reminiscing about their grossest stories.

A band played on the stage and a fresh round was bought, and as the night went on, their party began to slowly dwindle. Sophie looked at her watch, feeling warm, but not quite drunk, not being a big fan of drinking anyway had paced herself heavily. Voices began to escalate behind her back, at the bar. A small black woman with a shock of red in her hair that had been sitting at a red velvet booth nearby slid from her seat, flanked immediately by men in suits and moved to the shouting, behind Sophie.

A gunshot rang out, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor as the band's music came to an abrupt end. Most everyone hit the floor, and screaming began.

A woman was shouting for people to be quiet, but the customers who had hidden underneath tables were screaming and shot rang out, this time into the bottles behind the bar.

"Shut up and get out. You have exactly one minute to get out, or you're dead," came the commanded, and the voice insinuated there would be pleasure taken from their deaths. Sophie went still for a just a moment, before she put a hand on a co-worker's back, and together they scrambled out from under the table and towards the door.

Sophie felt strangely calm, even as tears leaked out of her eyes in a silent stream and she pushed her co-workers forward, blinking as people rushed past her, jostling her to and fro. Ruth was the last to emerge from the table, and her small hand slid into Sophie's pulling them both forward.

They ran forward, Sophie stumbling forward and time seemed to slow as Ruth pulled her forward towards the safety of the open door, past two women in black leather wielding guns half their height. Her green eyes were dull as they looked up and met Victor's eyes for just a second. His manic grin didn't falter, but she saw his grip tighten around the pistol in his upheld hand.

"A mob joint!" Ruth raged as they ran down the block.

Eventually they stumbled to a stop, and squatted, catching their breath. They heard someone calling their names and looked up to see Maureen running to them, waving her cell phone in the air.

"I called the police," she breathed coming to a stop beside them, "They said units were on their way, but I don't hear anything!"

Ruth frowned and stood up straight, "It's because that place belongs to the mob, and the police are in their pocket, so they aren't gonna go break it up. They're gonna do nothing, that's what they do," she said, spitting on the ground in distaste.

They hailed a cab, and each woman had miraculously made it out with their belongings, so they texted everyone to confirm safety.

Sophie was the last one to be dropped off by the cab, and handing the driver her cash, she slid out numbly.

She made it to her apartment before she had to run to the bathroom to vomit, fear emptying her insides. Sophie took a shower and in a numb daze she collected the suit in her closet, the only thing of his in there at the time, and draped it across her couch which she then sat on. Time passed and she slept, a blissfully dreamless sleep. When the door opened, she moved to sit up and look at him, but she found it hurt to look at his hairless face, at his angry brown eyes as they went from her to the suit. Victor's fingers closed around her arm and pulled her up, standing flush to him as he bent his head to snarl at her.

"Don't ever go to that club again, ever,"

"I don't answer to you," she said placidly, echoing his words from before, and pulled her arm out of his grip, and moved to look through the blinds at the city outside.

He followed her, standing silently behind her, a burn she felt across the expanse of her back, her calves, her thighs.

"I wasn't going to go back anyway, I can't," she ended, her voice cracking, she took a ragged breath, "I think you should leave."

He said nothing still, and made no move to leave.

"You don't answer to me, you said it yourself. It wasn't like you were planning on staying with me anyway, we both know that. I think I love you, I always have, but you're not that boy anymore, and I think I'm still partially that girl. I don't even know if you can love me," Sophie sobbed.

He moved away from her then, and his distance gave her words strength, but left her physically weak.

"You're a fool," he snapped at her, hate dripping from his words.

Sophie heard him collect his suit, and out the door he went, slamming the door behind him. With a last burst of adrenaline she moved to lock the door behind him, and then went back to the window, where she moved aside the blinds and pressed her hands to the glass, staring into the sun that shone between the buildings, over the Gotham skyline.

 _Don't leave me. I'm always alone, so alone._

Sophie swallowed her wants, her dreams, her fears and she pushed them down. She'd been without him for ten years, she could do it again, she hoped.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the delay, we moved and it's been hectic. Thank you very much for the reviews, the follows, and the favorites! I hope this is worth the wait, and I can't make promises, but I will try to be more timely! Thank you for your patience, and next time I write a story, I'm just gonna have it finished before I post it! ;D

Chapter Six

Life went on for Sophie, uneventful and without a hint of danger. Sophie didn't think that it was the lack of danger that left it hard to get up in the mornings, that made sleep feel like it had warm comforting claws in her that never wanted to let go.

Some mornings she woke up feeling like a zombie, just trudging through her day, mindless, on autopilot just to get the basics done. Other days found her waking up hot and bothered and racing around her world like she'd taken a double shot of an espresso.

On one such day Sophie found herself at work, and a thirteen hour day gone with still too much day left with just to herself. She was shoving her arms into her sweatshirt and exiting the ER when she heard her name being called. Sophie turned and paused as Dr. Romalotti hurried up behind her, pulling his white lab coat closer to himself.

"Hello Sophie!" he said with a cheerfulness that she couldn't mimic.

"Hey Dr. Rome," she sighed, and moved forward, looking up at the sky, gauging if the snow would finally fall tonight.

"Sophie, are you alright? You're not your usual self, you don't seem to smile anymore," he asked, reaching to put an arm around her shoulders.

One corner of her lips twitched up and she shrugged.

"I also find it odd that when I've requested your assistance in the private sector my request was met with quite a threatening glare. Care to explain?"

Romalotti's voice was jovial, but his eyes were curious. "Have you finally gotten some sense into that head of yours, girl?"

"Francis," Sophie grumbled and looked away, just in time to see a shiny black car pull up to the curb.

Sophie was silent as Francis stepped forward and cursed, "Damn, there goes my night. Ah well, at least I'm off of my shift, no needing anyone to cover me now. Ah girl, I"m glad you got some sense, but their little wars are escalating, and I could really use your talent," he lamented.

The door opened silently, but no one emerged.

Sophie looked over the physician's shoulder and into the darkness of the cab of the car. She couldn't see them, but could feel the heat of those brown eyes upon her. Years seemed to pass, but Sophie came back to herself when a snowflake landed on her nose.

She blinked away some drift, and hugged herself tightly, moving in the direction of her apartment with a side step.

"I don't know if I got any more sense, Dr. Romalotti, or if I just found our clientele to be...unpleasant, poor company."

"I guess that means you won't be joining me, eh Sophe?" Romalotti said with a slight laugh, already waving her away and moving towards the car.

Sophie huffed, her puff of air coming out as a white cloud and she turned before the pull she was feeling could take over.

Time went on and it became almost easy to live as if he'd never re-entered her life and left it again. Then just as suddenly, he dropped back into it.

Sophie was sleeping when she heard it, the dull thump of someone falling into the wall. It woke her up, but the sound was vaguely familiar as occasionally drunk residents came home and stumbled along the hall to their home.

Sophie's eyes found her alarm clock and blinked sluggishly at the numbers and then her lids closed back swiftly. Just as sleep began to reclaim her, another thump sounded, but this one seemed to be at her door. Her eyes opened again, and she listened again, her head nodding as she drifted back to sleep. Another thump. Sophie sighed and slid out of bed, grabbing a robe to cover her pajamas and sliding her feet into her slippers before daring to walk on the hardwood floor. When she went to her door flipped on the front room light and looked out the peephole, there was no one in the hall.

Sophie yawned and ran a hand through her sleep-tangled ponytail as she looked this way and that down the hall through the glass.

Just as she was about to walk away, another thump came, and this time it definitely came from her door and made her jump back.

"Hello? Who's there?" she called, looking through the peephole again. Another thump.

Sophie weighed her options and then cracked the door, grateful for the security chain. Her green eyes found no one at eye level, so she leaned to the side and looked farther down to see a figure in black slumped against her door. She saw his bald head and quickly sprang into motion.

"Oh Victor," she fretted, closing the door and unlocking the security chain before falling to her knees as the door opened and he slumped backward farther. His eyes were closed in pain and his skin was clammy.

Sophie bit her lip and then made a hasty decision to wrap her arms under his own and pulled him farther into her apartment, closing the door once his feet were out of the way. She opened his suit coat and found his black button down underneath slick with blood. From far away she heard herself making a sound in the back of her throat, a whine of worry. Hurriedly she unbuttoned the shirt to find a bullet hole to the right of his sternum, and another just above his right collarbone.

Quickly she stood and went into the closet just to left of the front door and opened it, retrieving her spare stethoscope. The lung sounds on the left side of his chest were clear, but labored, and the right was diminished. Sophie set the stethoscope off to the side, and with a quick touch to his face, she stumbled to her feet again to grab her cellphone and a few towels and blankets hurriedly.

Moments later she was beside him again, sliding a towel behind his head and throwing a towel onto his chest and applying pressure with one hand while the other dialed Francis Romalotti's number.

"Sophie, Jesus, it's two in the morning, wh-"

"Francis, it's Victor, he just showed up at my door. He's been shot, and I need your help with him," she beseeched, hearing her own voice, full of terror from far away.

"What? Wha...okay, okay. Give me a moment, where do you live again?" he asked, and she could hear him fumbling about on his end of the line.

"I think I can get him down to the street, if you can be there to pick us up and take us to the place by the river," Sophie stated, and then recited her address before hanging up the phone and shoving it into her robe pocket.

Leaning forward, Sophie placed both of her hands, bloody as they were on either side of his pale face.

"Victor, Victor please, we need to get downstairs to meet Francis," she pleaded. His face was slackening, and she felt her eyes burn, her throat tight and painful. Sophie leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his slack lips, his hairless brow, his cheekbones.

 _Not this way, please God, not this way_ , Sophie thought, and his eyelids fluttered and rose, brown eyes staring at her in silence.

"Help me stand you up," she whispered, and after a moment, he nodded slightly, then staggered to his feet with her help. Sophie threw a blanket around his shoulders to cover the sight of his blood chest, and snatched her purse from the counter, shoving it over her arm. Victor swayed and she wrapped an arm around his waist, and feeling the gun in his belt, she quickly withdrew it and placed it on her counter. Ignoring the blood on her floor and the bloody towels, she ushered them out the door and locked it behind them before half pulling him down the hall to the elevators.

Once inside with the doors closed she readjusted her grip on his waist, and used her free hand to press to his chest wound.

"Listen you, you're not leaving me like this. You hear me stubborn man? You're not dying on me," she snapped at him without real fire and momentarily rested her head on his chest before the elevator ding sounded and the doors opened.

His legs which had been doing a fairly good job at holding him up began to buckle and stumble, and Sophie stopped to adjust his arm farther around her shoulders and once again readjust her grip on his waist before she dragged him out the front door. Snow was falling, and his shallow, fast breaths were painfully evident in the cold weather. It seemed like forever when a white sedan pulled up to the curb with a squeal of tires.

Doctor Romalotti emerged from the driver's seat and hurried to open the back passenger door. Sophie hurried them over to the vehicle and tried as gently as she could to push Victor in and onto the seat.

She heard Francis cursing at the blood on them as she crawled in after him and the door closed behind her.

"Stay with me Victor," she said firmly, placing firm pressure on his chest with one hand and stroking his brow the other.

His eyes opened again, and blinked at her in silence. They closed, heavily, and then opened again much later.

"I can't get through your window anymore, Sophie," he words came out in a tired mumble.

Sophie smiled silently, and pressed a kiss to the side of his face. He had come to her when he was gravely injured, and maybe he couldn't love her as any typical man would love a woman, but didn't his actions speak just as loud as words?

The door was opening again, and Francis was ushering them out, but they needed significant help this time. Between the two of them, Sophie and Dr. Rome managed to sling Victor's arms over their shoulders and drag him into the make-shift clinic.

What happened next was a whirlwind of movement, they got Victor onto the surgical table and Sophie was stripping off her robe, tossing it out of the way as she pulled her hair back severely and then scrubbed in, movements jerky and hasty.

They worked on him and they worked, Romalotti issuing orders and drug dosages, the blink of bullets falling onto a tray...Sophie's ears took in the Doctor's orders, but she was acutely aware of the beeping of the vitals cart next to her, the quiet hiss of the oxygen as it entered his nose. She started IVs, fluids and antibiotics that she titrated manually.

'You're going to live, you're going to live,' she promised him with all her heart.

" _Ya wanna hide from me, eh? You wanna hide like a coward? Like a pussy?" His dad slurred, and with a thunderous clap, a large backhand sent his mother to the ground at their feet. Cornelius and Victor Zsasz looked down between them at Mona, her porcelain face various shades of violet, brown and yellow as she lay against the linoleum unmoving. Cornelius hocked up phlegm and spit in her direction as he sprang over her and grabbed Victor by his right arm, dragging him through the house and out the backdoor._

" _Letting your mother hide you behind her skirts, what a spineless little shit," his dad raged as they stumbled along a winding path, "Next time I call you, you're gonna come out and face me like a man, ya hear?"_

 _Victor blinked as spittle sprayed across his face, and the smell of his father's cheap beer rushed into his nose. There was a loud creak as Victor ran his free hand over his face, but before he had a chance to see what was happening he was being thrown forward, into a painfully sharp, coppery smelling hell-hole. Victor tried to spring out of the rusted fridge in the Zsasz backyard, but with a large fist to his jaw he was sent reeling back in, watching as the night disappeared from his view as his father closed the door, laughing at his spunk and cursing his idiocy. 'No way out, no way out' Victor panicked, and reached forward blindingly to put all his weight against the door._

" _Hey!" his dad boomed, "You keep it down in there ya little shit and think about what you've done! When you get outta there you're gonna face me like a man when I call for ya!"_

 _Victor paused and waited, listening for his father's exit, but heard nothing. After a few moments of silent, just when he thought it was safe to try again he heard the sound of one of his father's chains from the shed, clunking and banging as it was threaded and wound around the fridge. Then the sound of the lock, and the deafening bang it made as it landed against the outside of the fridge._

 _Cornelius gave the appliance a kick for good measure, and then moments later the screech of the back door slamming closed._

 _Victor rammed into the front and rammed into it again, but he was simply too small, too weak and he felt his eyes burn with tears. Nobody could see him cry in the dark, so he shouted and he cried and pushed, kicking out here and there, thankful for his ratty old sneakers, since his hands and arms were getting sliced open with every movement. The backyard was a maze of Cornelius' forgotten and abandoned fixer upper projects, fridges that he had lugged home from the shop declaring there was still life left in the old ice box. Years of neglect and the elements had turned them into petri dishes of nature, but also fun hiding places for two kids just trying to be kids and forget the ugliness of the world they lived in._

 _Sophie!_

 _Just the thought of the blond haired girl next door made Victor's heart soar, and he shouted as loud as he could "Sophie! Sophie!"_

 _But there was no reply._

 _Victor gnashed his teeth and tried again, but still nothing. He began to feel lightheaded and folded himself into a cramped seated position. He lost track of time, and even fell asleep, offered a modicum of comfort that he would hear Cornelius trying to break into the fridge if his rage willed it. At some point he might have heard his mother's quiet voice a whisper on the wind, repeating his name as she tried not to wake her husband, but when he was able to pull himself out of sleep, he heard nothing, and then he became aware that he had to use the bathroom. It was horrible and it was shameful and he cried some more since no one could hear him and know his shame._

 _He did not know how much time passed, since he kept dozing, and seemed to be harder to wake up each time. His breaths were shallow, and although he had thought it was because the smell in here was disgusting, his foggy mind supplied oxygen, or the lack thereof, and Victor realized he wouldn't still be alive if there wasn't some kind of leak or opening in the old fridge letting it in._

 _Victor…..Victor…_

 _Sophie…Sophie!_

 _Victor willed his eyelids open and stayed utterly still as he listened._

 _"Victor, Victor?!" her voice squeaked quietly._

 _"Sophie!" Victor yelled as loud as he could, and pushed against the fridge, slammed his hands against the front._

 _"Victor!" he heard her again, and so he made more commotion._

 _"I'm here!" he screamed so loud his throat hurt._

 _Then the door jiggled, but did not move._

 _"I'm here! I'm here!" her voice was warbling with tears, and he heard her trying to open the door, tugging on the chain._

 _"Where is the key?!"_

 _And Victor's heart fell….on his key ring, on his dad's key ring…_

 _"He has it, Sophe, he has it," and Victor hung his head and gritted his teeth._

 _She didn't stop though, he heard her slamming something on the lock, over and over, and he heard her crying and hitting her hands against the door._

 _Sophie, little Sophie, his only friend in the world._

" _Victor, Victor, I'll be right back. I promise, Victor, I'll be right back. I'm not gonna leave you in there Victor, I'll be right back!"_

 _Sophie, Sophie, little hero Sophie._

 _Then there was silence…..unbearable silence. Then there was a commotion and a clatter._

 _Victor froze inside the fridge, what if...what if Cornelius got Sophie…? Every hair on his body stood on end, and his ears strained to hear a muffled scream, the snap of bone, or the slap of a hand against flesh._

 _"SOPHIE!" he screamed, and pounded his fists on the front. Then, the chain on the fridge rattled._

 _Victor's hands snapped back just as the door swung open._

 _His brown eyes blinked painfully at the sudden intrusion of light and he raised a hand to block the sun._

 _"Jesus," he heard a woman curse, and after blinking a few times he lowered his hand to set eyes upon his savior._

 _Sophie looked very similar to her Aunt Carol, if you just twisted her into a woman whose face was lined with bitterness and smoke lines around her lips. The woman still had her nurse uniform from the hospital on, and a cigarette was precariously perched on her dry, lipstick stained lips. Graying blond hair was pulled back into a severe bun that pulled at the skin around her eyes and only served to make her seem older._

 _In her hands was his father's bolt cutter, and next to her was Sophie whose green eyes were large with tears and fear, and her hands were wringing in front of her, smeared with blood._

 _Victor looked to his right and his father's shed was open, the door swinging in a slight breeze and he emerged from the fridge, unsure and ashamed._

 _Sharp, thin fingers grabbed Victor's chin and angled his face up at his savior as she took in the bruise on his jaw, his sunken cheeks, and lower over his soiled clothing, his bloody hands._

 _Her free hand plucked the cigarette off her lips, flicked the accumulation of ashes somewhere and then she cursed again. Her hand dropped away from his face, and then her eyes went to his rickety old yellow house. She was biting her lip and then turning to face him again._

 _"C'mon kid, let's get you cleaned up."_

 _With that she dropped the bolt cutter onto the ground and turned back to her house. Sophie's little hand slipped into his own, and her eyes never strayed from his face and she supplied a smile and a squeeze of hand, and although he felt like had been laid bare before the world, she looked at him with nothing but kindness and love and he felt no shame._

 _When he emerged from Carol Summers' shower, he put on an old flannel shirt of hers and a pair of flannel pajama pants while his clothes washed in the machine._

 _A roast beef sandwich, a bowl of soup and a large cup of milk sat on the table as he found his way to their kitchen._

 _"You sure know how to keep secrets, just like that mother of yours," he heard Carol mutter to Sophie on the other side of the kitchen table. There was a snip of scissors as she finished wrapping Sophie's hands, then the scrape of chair on the linoleum as Carol moved to sit next to Victor. Sophie was silent, but her eyes were on his and a small smile was on her face. Sophie's aunt cleaned the cuts on his palms and knuckles with something that stung terribly and then also wrapped his hands in bandages, giving he and Sophie matching mummy-like hands._

 _"Mona's been a good neighbor to me. So I'm gonna let her know you're here real quiet like, and then we're going to get you and Ms. Sophe here a tetanus shot. Now eat up, it ain't fit for a king, but it'll do ya," said the haggard looking woman as she finished his wrappings She crushed the butt of her cigarette into an ashtray, and then lit another before she moved to head out the front door._

 _"Maybe it'll be better now?" whispered Sophie, but when Victor didn't reply, only picked up his sandwich, she slid off her chair and then found some cookies in the cupboard and brought them over. He ate silently, his gaze on her bandaged hands._

 _But it never did get better...it just ended, violently._

Victor woke with a start, feeling needles in his arms and a cold table at his back. Sophie's face was above his own, and he felt her warm, gloved hand on his left shoulder. Her green eyes were dark with exhaustion, dark circles around them that only made them shine like emeralds in her skull.

"It's okay, it's okay," she comforted, and her gloves as well as her Gotham University shirt were caked in blood, her shirt with old blood, gloves with fresh.

"Dr. Rome and I are getting you fixed up, just hang in there, and rest, please."

Her voice was tired, and her eyes were full of worry.

"Falcone….Maroni," he muttered, eyes turning to the side to find the doctor.

"I've already contact Carmine, he knows where you're at," Francis said tiredly, and Victor felt a tug in his chest, through a fog of drug induced anesthesia. He wished there was pain….he wouldn't mind it, other than this disconnected feeling…

"Rest Mister Zsasz, listen to your nurse," the doctor said from far away.

Sluggishly his eyes rolled to Sophie again, her eyes were full of worry, and kept glancing down at his chest.

"I'll need more tallies," he slurred.

Sophie gave him a hard, not amused look.

"I won, they jumped us, but ...I killed them."

Sophie glanced at the doctor, then bent her head next to his, "Good," she breathed into his ear, and although he was numb, Victor felt electrical currents of pleasure rushing through him. "Now rest please, Victor."

And so he did.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

When he next awoke, there she was again. Her robe was over him, and the cold surgical table still underneath him. Sophie's hand was over his own, and her head was turned away from him, resting on her arms as she apparently slept next to him on a chair pulled up to the table. One light was on in the corner of the room, and it stank of the copper of blood and antiseptics. Victor's eyes rested on her blonde head for a moment longer, and then looked around at his surroundings, the IV in his left hand connected to a blood bag that seemed to be nearing the end of its infusion. The work area looked like it had been scrubbed, not with the usual clean-up team's expected perfection, but most likely Sophie's handiwork. He felt a strange numbness on the right side of his body, stretching from his neck down his chest. Victor stretched out his muscles, his limbs coming to life with a silent groan. His activity made him aware of another IV in his right arm, and upon inspection was an antibiotic.

Victor rolled his eyes and drummed the fingers of his left hand on the table, and then stretched out the fingers of his right hand. Like a jostled puppet she came to life, her back curving to sit back, and head following up in a slow roll, tired green eyes blinking at him with instant softness. That numbness in his chest was interrupted by a cramp, a pull that left him gritting his jaw. Victor rolled his shoulders and then sat up, with Sophie wordlessly moving to make sure the IV tubing stayed connected. In a pleasant silence he threw his legs over the side of the table, and she moved the other IV pole around the table.

"Bathroom?" she said softly, standing in front of him again, and in answer he slid off the table, bare feet touching the floor. Immediately she was putting her shoulders under his left arm and clucking at him to not put much weight on his right arm.

"Grab that other pole, it's coming with us," Sophie instructed, and with one of her arms around his waist, and her free hand pulling the pole hung with the blood transfusion, they made their way to the bathroom so he could take a piss.

By the time they got back to the surgical table the blood transfusion was done, so Sophie helped Victor back onto the table and then replaced the blood bag with a bag of normal saline and titrated it with a furrowed brow.

Victor spotted his clothes folded and placed off to the side on another counter. With his right hand he moved to rub at his face and feel the stubble growing there, along his jaw, on his brow, but when he went to reach higher he felt a sharp pain shoot across his chest and his face curled into a snarl of dissatisfaction, but he dropped the hand and met her silent glare.

"I need my phone," he rumbled.

Her green eyes narrowed at him, and he furrowed his brow at her and jerked his head in the direction of his clothes.

Sophie was silent as she bent to pick up her robe that had fallen to the floor, wrapped it around his shoulders and then went to his clothes and dug through his pockets, retrieving his phone.

He began texting with a flurry of fingers, seemingly unhindered by the IVs sticking out of him.

"When will the infusions be done?" he asked.

"You should be resting," she said instead, and placed a hand on his cheek.

He stared at her silently for a moment, then, "Sophie, the infusions."

She sighed loudly and her hand dropped away, "Give it another six hours at least. Probably should only be four, but still…"

Sophie slid tiredly into chair and watched a myriad of subtle emotions play across his face, caught the light of the cellphone screen catching on blonde stubble.

He made an unhappy noise in his throat, and looked like he was seriously considering crushing the phone within his grip, but then inhaled deeply and cracked his neck, wincing as the sutures above his right collarbone were stretched.

"When did you last eat?" he asked gruffly.

Sophie frowned and looked up at the clock on the wall, "Mmm, I don't remember. But after seeing your insides I can't say I have much of an appetite."

Minutes later he moved to place the phone into a pocket of his suit, and instead touched the bandages the stretched across the expanse of his chest. Sophie held out her hand for the phone instead, and after some jaw twitches he relinquished it to her.

"A ride will be here in four hours to pick us up," Victor informed her and Sophie's face twisted into her own look of displeasure.

"Well you better lay your ass down and rest then, unless you want to faint like a girl when they come to get you," she snapped.

His brown eyes flickered over her face, gauging her seriousness, before he swung his legs up on the surgical table and laid supine once again. Her robe fluttered over him once more, and then she was moving around the table, one side to the other, re-titrating the infusions.

"I've been told to lay low for awhile, so we'll be dropped off at your place."

"Hmm," Sophie murmured, "Well maybe you actually will heal then."

"My gun?"

"At my apartment."

"It should be with me," he growled, moving to sit up, but hands were pushing him back down, not at all gentle even on his right side.

"So should the pool of blood you left on my wood floors, but it's still there and we're still here, so tough luck, Sunshine," she snapped.

They glared at each other with fire in their eyes, but said nothing. Victor felt the need to sleep pulsating in his right temple so after another pointed glare, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

"Victor," he heard her call.

He opened his eyes to find her removing the IVs from hand and arm. Frowning, he looked to the clock and found that indeed four hours had passed.

Sophie hurriedly taped gauze to the sites and then proffered his suit coat, "Your dress shirt was a loss," she explained at his deadpan look. She helped him thread his right arm into the sleeve and pulled it over his shoulders, and smoothed it out. While he pulled on his pants and shoes she moved in a whirlwind throwing away the rest of the garbage and throwing on her robe.

"I must look like a mess," she muttered touching her ponytail, but when her eyes fell on him she paused.

He watched as her eyes ran over his bare chest but for the bandages, Victor felt a heat erupt within him at the darkening of those green eyes.

"You look fine, Sophie," he muttered before opening the door and ushering her out and into the car that waited there.

A mafiosi held open the door for them, and he gulped and Zsasz's bandages and how the murderer-for-hire looked like he was probably gonna kill him for just seeing him like this.

A quick growl stating the cross streets of their destination and then Zsasz was ushering a woman in a robe into the car before him and then disappearing inside after her.

When they exited at the cross streets a little less than thirty minutes later, it was only the woman who exited and she looked confused as the door closed behind her and with a tap on the partition, the mafiosi sped forward, gulping as the young woman disappeared slowly from his side mirror.

Sophie stood on the curb, mouth opening and closing like a fish before she let out a frustrated bellow, ignoring the looks of random Gothamites that walked on the street around her. Sophie stomped to her building and punched in the code with stiff fingers and then made her way up to her apartment. Inside her apartment the gun was still resting on the counter with a smeared bloody handprint, and her floor….ugh, it was a loss.

Sophie locked the door behind her and made her way to her bathroom where she promptly took a steaming hot shower and then made herself some soup before huddling on her couch and turning on the television. Her eyes burned with tiredness as she force fed herself, but she took in footage that had been captured from street cameras, the names that were read as being wanted for gang violence, murder.

Oh, Victor…

Sophie took note of the day and time, and decided that after her last 72 hours she wasn't going to a functioning member of her healthcare team, so she called off and apologized, family emergency, but she'd be there for her next shift. Oh Sophie, you never call off, take all the time you need, is there anything we can do… and Sophie thanked them for their kindness and waved off their concern.

Sophie wasn't sure how much time had passed when her door opened and woke her from her nap on the couch. Victor filled the doorway before stepping in and closing the door behind him, a big, black and expensive looking bag in his left hand.

He eyed her, her soup bowl and then the television. Then those brown eyes found his gun on the counter, the blood smear there and the caked, congealed mess on her front entry way. Victor once again looked at her silently, and then was moving, turning off the television and the light in the living room before disappearing into the bedroom. Her closet light turned on and Sophie slid off the couch, and moved into her room just as he emerged from the closet, turning off the light. Then his hand was there, touching the small of her back and leading her to the bed, divesting her of her clothing and then peeling back the covers and guiding her in.

She heard his clothes hitting the floor and then he was slipping in beside her.

"You should always go shirtless for your suits," she mumbled.

"Sleep, Sophie," he commanded, and she felt his long fingered hand rest itself over her heart, his fingertips against her steady pulse.

"I thought you left again," she said some moments later, struggling to stay awake.

"I told you of my orders, I'll be staying here," he informed her.

"Well I might just let you stay," she slurred with sleep, and giggled a little.

Silence was her answer, and Sophie felt herself plummet into the depths of sleep, once again lulled by the comfort of his warmth at her side.

 _It was her sixth birthday, but Aunt Carol was at work. She'd left a chocolate birthday cake in the fridge, but Sophie was pretty sure cakes needed candles and she didn't know where those were, but also knew she shouldn't play with fire, so in the fridge the cake stayed._

 _Mama….Mama always remembered Sophie's birthday. They would wear plastic tiaras and dance around the house, and they'd even wear the silly crowns when they went to go get pancakes for dinner, because it was her birthday and she could have anything she wanted for dinner, even breakfast._

 _Sophie missed her Mama terribly, and she still felt like she'd done a very bad thing leaving that spot in the mall her mother had told her to stay at. Aunt Carol had said Mama was "long gone", but Sophie figured since that she'd only seen Aunt Carol once or twice before Mama left, maybe Aunt Carol didn't know as much about Mama as she thought she did._

 _She needed to get back to that place. So she went next door, wandered through the abandoned, rusting refrigerators and found him bent over a book, doing his homework. Sophie tapped him on the shoulder._

" _Victor, will you take me to the mall? I need to find my Momma,"_

 _Brown eyes looked her way under heavy blonde brows._

" _I thought she left you," he said softly._

" _I think she's gonna come back," supplied Sophie. Victor once again began writing on his lined piece of paper, pencil held tightly between his thin fingers, and she watched him, waiting silently._

 _After what seemed like years he closed the book, and unfolding himself from his seated position on the ground, he went and hid his book somewhere on the porch. From there Victor moved toward the street and Sophie stumbled after him, wishing she still had the same outfit she had a year ago, because then maybe it would be easier for Mama to remember to her._

 _She followed him to the bus stop where he hesitated just a moment to take her hand and then pulled them in with a group of people and found them a place to huddle in the back._

" _How do you know how to get there?" Sophie marveled._

" _Sometimes my Mom takes me there," Victor said softly, brown eyes looking out the window, and far beyond._

 _Victor was so smart..._

" _You'll really like my Mom," said Sophie. "She laughs all the time, plays dress-up, and she's as beautiful as a princess!"_

 _Victor turned his head to look over at her in silence, then nodded and looked back out the window._

 _Sophie was just beginning to give up and doze when Victor perked up and his warm hand grabbed hers again, and when the bus stopped, he was quick as a rabbit, getting them into the crowd of people and off the bus._

 _On the sidewalk he came to an abrupt stop and put his hands in his pockets._

" _Where to?" he asked._

 _Sophie looked up at the building, frowning, "I think I need to go inside, I'll remember then."_

 _That was a good answer it seemed, because he nodded and led the way into the mall. The cold air was refreshing and Sophie used all of her might to remember exactly where they had gone. She remembered that her Mom had taken her by the pet store where they had pointed and looked at puppies and kittens, gave them names and stroked their furry faces through the glass. Sophie remembered the ice cream shop where her Mom had gotten Sophie her own chocolate sundae._

 _Sophie took Victor's hand then, and pulled him along and she spoke as the walked, telling him all that she remembered as he looked at her and followed._

 _Then finally they made it, after a bookstore there had been a shoe shop, and after the shoe shop Sophie and her Mom had sat on a bench for awhile just people watching as her Mom had called it._

" _Here," said Sophie, remembering the store with white ceramic cats that she had stood outside of for so long, "this is where she'll be,"_

 _And so they stood and waited. And waited. And waited._

 _Sophie got that bad feeling again, that icky feeling that made her stomach feel like it was in knots and that it was weighing her down. Sophie just wanted to sink through the floor and out of sight. She blinked away tears as the overhead voice notified customers of closing time._

 _A hand was on her shoulder then, and Victor was bending to look her straight in the eye._

" _Some parents are no good Sophie. I know they're supposed to be, that's what all the stories tell you, but some parents...they are just bad people, Sophie. Whenever my Dad does something really bad, if we get the chance, my Mom will bring me here and she'll get me an ice cream too, and she'll talk about how things will change one day. She says my Dad doesn't mean any of the things he does. But I know, Sophie, I know that he does mean it. I can see it in his eyes that he wants to crush us like bugs. I think your Mom took you to all these places because she didn't know how to be a good parent, a good adult, and just say good-bye to your face."_

 _Sophie cried then, putting her face in hands and hiding behind a curtain of hair._

" _But why did she leave? Was I a bad girl?" she sobbed._

" _You weren't the bad one, Sophie."_

 _He didn't offer hugs or explanations, just a warm hand on her shoulder and Sophie looked into his eyes and nodded, calming down._

" _Thank you for coming here with me," she sniffled._

" _Let's go back home, the buses will be stopping their routes soon," he said in reply, and they retraced their steps right back out to the bus._

 _When they got home the neighborhood was dark, but there was an orange glow coming from the porch from Aunt Carol's cigarette as she sat and smoked, waiting._

" _I'm not gonna wait for her anymore," Sophie whispered to Victor before they parted ways outside of their houses._

 _Victor nodded and eyed Aunt Carol's shadowed face before disappearing into his house._

 _When Sophie marched up the steps, she looked at Aunt Carol and took a deep breath._

" _I'm done waiting for her," Sophie said._

"' _Bout damn time," breathed her Aunt, exhaling smoke off to the side._


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

The next day Sophie awoke close to noon with Victor's hand still over her breast and over her heart. She broke out into goosebumps, and her eyes traveled from his hand up the lithe musculature of his forearm and bicep. The dips and angles of his collarbone and traps made Sophie feel warm all over and she ended her study looking at the back of his head. Sighing, she removed herself from the bed and out from under his hand.

She stepped into some panties and found a bra, then made her way to his side of the bed. His breathing had changed, so she knew his eyes would be open once she had a view of his face. She sat on the edge of the bed and ran her hand over his forehead, feeling for a fever, but found no warmth. This man was blessed with his ability to heal quickly, and she thanked the Lord, knowing it could have all gone so terribly wrong.

"Please stay in bed and rest, I need to go buy some more bandages and gauze. I'll get breakfast too," she supplied, then flicked his right ear for good measure and left the bed to pull on some jeans and a turtleneck. Sophie shoved her blonde hair into a knitted cap and pulled on some comfy boots before leaving.

When she returned he was sitting on the couch watching the television with a sheet wrapped around his waist. The bandages on his chest weren't quite saturated, but stained, and the crimson caught Sophie's eyes right away.

Sophie placed her grocery bags on the counter, then brought over a large black coffee for him, a large white mocha for her, and bagels with strawberry cream cheese.

His eyes were on her as she sat and spread out her food purchases. Sophie kicked off her boots before throwing her feet up on the couch and onto his lap.

"Eat," she commanded, before shoving a cream cheese slathered bagel into her mouth. Victor eyed her feet on his lap, and then back at her face. He reached towards her and pushed a sleep tousled strand of hair back behind her left ear, then wiped off a chunk of cream cheese from the corner of her mouth and took a very stern and manly try before helping himself to a bagel with said cream cheese. They sat and ate, took swigs of their coffees and overall enjoyed the silence of domestic bliss before they would inevitably begin bickering again.

When they were finished eating he indicated his desire to shower, so Sophie followed him into the bathroom and peeled off the old dressings. She helped him in the shower and scolded him when he didn't follow her directions that would cause as little damage to the wounds as possible. Once the shower was done, she had him sit with a towel around his waist as she placed fresh bandages and ointments across his chest. When he was about to rise as she turned away, she snapped at him, "You, sit. I'm not done with you," and she turned away from the sink with his razor and shaving cream in her hands.

Victor paused mid-rise and then sat back down. He sat pleasantly still as she lathered his head in the stuff, and then mimicking what she'd watched him do on occasion in the wee hours of the morning, she shaved his face entirely clean of hair.

When she was done, Sophie stepped back and smiled, then threw a wet towel at his face before leaving to get him fresh clothes.

Victor wiped his face and then stood to look at his visage in the mirror. He turned his jaw this way and that and was running a long fingered hand over his jaw when she returned.

"Are you pleased?" she teased, and a low chest rumble was her answer.

Sophie herself was pleasantly surprised to find he owned a nice pair of black flannel pajama bottoms and found that he looked damn good in them.

"When will I have you again?" his voice rumbled next to her ear as she gathered up clothes to do the laundry. Sophie looked back at him to see him standing behind her, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned in the bathroom doorway.

She blinked when she noticed the sudden appearance of new tallies on his left side, fresh and glistening with blood that had not yet begun to clot completely. Sophie frowned a bit, but then her mind thought of him on her floor, pale as death with brown eyes that had looked at her so softly…

"Soon," she murmured, and he hmphed before turning to exit the bedroom.

Their next few days together revealed alot to Sophie, some of which she had already gathered in their sporadic time together. Victor wasn't one to be idle, and he to liked to keep himself and his surroundings in order. He cleaned his guns, sharpened some wicked looking knives, he seemed to prefer classical music with piano, cellos and violins as compared to the other music she had in her collection. Victor didn't appreciate dirty dishes at all, and preferred to fold his laundry himself.

She also was reminded once again that he seemed to be blest with a near inhuman healing factor, as his wounds healed quickly with no issues. He was a runner too, and he often ran multiple times a day when the confines of the apartment seemed to drive him insane. He liked Chicago style pizza and chinese food (he preferred to eat with chopsticks as well), but hated Mexican food.

Sophie also found that her being on top in regards to the bedroom also seemed to drive him insane and she really liked making him writhe.

Her first day back to work they left at the same time, he on a run in the opposite direction and as she walked to work, enjoying the chill, she realized that this was probably the happiest she'd ever been. It wasn't going to stay this way, she knew, but for now, it was more than she'd ever dreamed, and she'd take it.

When she came home her third night, a big surprise awaited her.

"I'm ho- hey! My floor!" she exclaimed, and immediately dropped to her knees to run her hand over the unblemished wood. Victor inclined his head over to the side to look at her from the couch, and said nothing as she gaped at the seamless work.

"Did you do this?" Sophie gasped.

"Contractors for Don Falcone," he murmured, and went back to his sudoku. Sophie picked herself up off the floor, closed the open door behind her, kicked off her shoes and bounded over the couch to plant a big kiss on his unenthused face.

"Thank you! That was gonna cost me a fortune and my security deposit!" she rejoiced.

Sophie could watch Victor forever, she mused. He went shirtless in the apartment, most likely as she'd repeatedly voiced her appreciation for the view and she could watch him prowl around the apartment doing all of his menial things and it would still be thrilling, watching the muscles in his chest, his back and sides elongate and compress, a well oiled machine. Sophie also remembered what a vastly intelligent person Victor was, not that he had ever seemed to be anything less, but it was still slightly shocking to watch him pour through her personal library. He was excellent with numbers and a fast read.

She remembered that he'd nearly qualified for the honor roll except for his attendance in grade school. In high school Victor had qualified for all the AP classes, and Sophie had been determined to join him in AP Biology despite their grade difference when things had finally come to a head and he had to run.

One morning Sophie was dressed and heading out the door to grocery shop and grab coffee while Victor was headed to the shower, having just returned from his run. A knock came from the door and Sophie paused, her hand hovering above the door handle.

"Gotham PD," came a voice on the other side, and Sophie felt her insides turn to ice.

Quickly she looked over her shoulder, scanned the apartment and then leaned forward and looked through the peephole.

Two detectives stood outside her door, one on the younger side, clean shaven and blonde. His partner looked rough with a fedora on his head, a white and red beard and what looked to be yesterday's suit rumpled over his form.

"Gotham PD, open up!" the red headed cop barked, and slammed his fist on her door. Sophie prayed Victor wouldn't start up the shower, before swinging the door open.

The two men blinked upon coming face to face with Sophie.

She wore her favorite red beret, her thick black winter coat and black gloves. Her jeans were tucked into knee high black boots and her blonde hair was falling around her shoulders.

"S-Sophie Summers?" the blonde detective with a troubled face, stuttered.

"That's me," Sophie introduced herself and blinked at them, "I was just leaving, can I help you?"

"Miss Summers, my name is Detective Gordon and this is my partner Detective Bullock," the one named Gordon stated.

"Miss Summers we received a tip that a gentleman matching this description might have been seen entering and leaving your residence," Bullock said with an oily smile as he slid up to Sophie, a picture of Victor in his hand.

Sophie shot a glare at the closed door of her neighbor Ms. Norris, before looking down at the picture of Victor, tilting her head and demanding her heart calm down.

"Hmmm….it's just me here," Sophie stated frowning, "And I don't know him, but...isn't this guy's face on the news every night? " she asked, looking back up at the detectives curiously.

"May we come in?" asked Bullock as he stepped forward, making Sophie step back as he not so subtly pushed his way into her apartment.

"You could have just asked," Sophie grumbled at him, and then stepped aside to let Gordon inside, who had the grace to look at least a little sheepish.

"You see Miss Summers, this man, Victor Zsasz, he's a very dangerous man. He works for the mob, and he's a cop killer," Bullock stated, prowling around her apartment. Sophie thanked God for Victor's cleanliness, not that she had ever lived like a pig, but seriously…

"Well that's terrible," Sophie stated, truthfully.

Sophie kept the front door open and stepped further into the apartment, pushing her purse strap up her shoulder. She knew her own apartment, and could feel Victor's presence, still and silent on the other side of her closed bedroom door. Her knees felt weak.

"We're hoping to catch him before he causes any more death," Gordon supplied.

"He's really a psychopath," Bullock added.

"He's not the only one in Gotham," Sophie added, looking at the red headed detective with distaste. She watched as he thumbed through her music, her books.

To her front left Gordon was also examining the room, but from afar.

"You know detectives, if you really want to search my apartment, I'm pretty certain you need a warrant, and some kind of proof or evidence that this character has been in my apartment, or least reasonable doubt."

"You seem defensive Miss Summers, trying to hide something?" Bullock asked, suddenly coming very close into her personal space.

"You can back yourself up, Detective Bullock. I'm not trying to be disrespectful, but you are making me very uncomfortable," Sophie said, backing up.

"Harvey," Gordon snapped, and Bullock's eyes flickered to her closed bedroom door, but then huffed and whirled out her door where he dug into his coat for a toothpick.

"I apologize for my partner, he can be a little rough around the edges," Gordon apologized and Sophie nodded, but noticed Gordon's eyes were also on her bedroom door.

"Is that all Detective Gordon? I really need to run," Sophie asked, tugging on her purse strap.

"Sophie, if I may call you that, we really need to find Zsasz, he's dangerous. He's like a rabid dog that's barely being restrained, if at all. We gotta put him down to save more lives, Gotham's cops and people," Gordon stated, looking Sophie straight in the eyes.

Sophie stared straight back, "If I had any idea who you were talking about I would tell you, Detective. I don't have a social life, I work, I come home, that's about it. Even Ms. Norris could tell you that," Sophie supplied and Gordon's face remained unchanged, but his eyes squinted just slightly.

"Can you tell me why Ms. Norris would think Victor Zsasz would be coming to your apartment?" Gordon asked nonchalantly.

"Well I did sleep with a bald guy once or twice, " mused Sophie, tapping a gloved finger to her lip. "Can I see that picture again?" she asked and studied Victor's visage carefully.

"I don't remember his name, it was just a little fling, but….I'm pretty sure the guy I slept with at least had some dark eyebrows, and blue eyes. I'm a sucker for blue eyes," she admitted with a mischievous smile. "Also the no eyebrow thing? Weird. Really weird," Sophie ended, handing the picture back to Gordon."So...is that all, Detective Gordon, Bullock?" Sophie repeated politely, and stepped towards the door.

"Do you mind if we have a look around, just to close this up?" Gordon asked, immediately moving towards her bedroom.

Sophie put her right hand on her hip and in doing so put her elbow right into the detective's side. "I believe, Detective Gordon, I would require a warrant to let you look through my lingerie."

His hazel eyes glared at her and she smiled prettily at him.

"Fine, Miss Summers. We'll be leaving. Here's my card if you see the individual in question, or anything suspicious," Gordon ended with a snap and handing her his GCPD card, he and Bullock left, unvoiced suspicions heavy on their coated shoulders.

Sophie closed the door behind them, and then leaned her head against the door, breathing slowly. A scorching heat was at her back, plucking the card from between her fingers and letting out an angry growl.

When she turned to look at him over her shoulder, Victor's brown eyes were filled with hate as he stood there in jogging pants and a long sleeved spandex running shirt.

"I owe Gordon a death," he snarled, then exhaled loudly through his nose, "They'll be waiting for you in a car downstairs to validate your story, leave now."

Sophie was a whirlwind out the door, locking it behind her and running to the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor she breezily exited the elevator, humming her favorite song she made her way out of the building and made for the direction of the local grocer. She spotted Bullock puffing on a cigar against a car across the street and she wiggled her fingers at him as she passed by.

He nodded at her with a snarl and she made sure to catch Gordon's eye from inside the car as she kept on walking, seemingly without a care in the world.

When Sophie came home, groceries in hand, she half expected there to be cops and a medical examiner outside of Ms. Norris' door. She breathed a sigh of relief when no such sight greeted her and unlocked the door, but sent a nasty look at said neighbor's door before closing it behind her.

Victor was fresh from the shower and cleanly shaven once again, standing with his back to her as he looked out the sliding glass door and mumbling into his cellphone.

Sophie quietly put away the groceries, and took off her gloves, boots and hat before grabbing a newly bought bottle of wine and opening it.

She sat on the couch and held her wineglass in both hands, looking down at her bare feet on the coffee table. She'd gotten them done a few days ago, French pedicure, and mused that Victor seemed to like the style since her feet had gotten a few bites the other night. Sophie caught bits and pieces of his conversation, gathering that their time together was slowly but surely coming to an end.

His phone call ended, but not the way he had wanted, she could almost hear the phone groaning as it suffered a crushing grip. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose a few times before he moved away from the window and stood behind her. He bent over the back of the couch and his fingers were crushing the cushions of the couch as his mouth lowered to her ear.

"Gordon won't be bothering you again, Sophie," he promised her vehemently, and then pressing his face to the side of her head, inhaled her scent.

She nodded and leaned her head against his, feeling tired and hollowed out.

"There is going to be an event soon, bringing a guest is expected,"

Sophie blinked and looked back at him, "An event? You?"

"I am providing security," Victor supplied, "Proving that I am and always have been able to do whatever he needs."

Sophie nodded and watched him move towards the bedroom.

"When is it?" she asked.

"The twenty-fourth," he replied.

Sophie frowned, "That's Christmas Eve,"

When she received no answer she sighed, and then moved to retrieve her phone from her purse. By some kind of miracle she wasn't working, so that was covered at least.

"What do I wear?"

"It's a black and white event," his voice came from the closet.

"Informative," she sighed, and looked up as he entered the room, once again in an impeccable suit and tie, black skull ring once again on his finger.

"I didn't know we went to holiday events together," Sophie commented as she stood, and straightened his tie, slid her hands over the lapels of his jacket.

He said nothing, only tilted his jaw to allow her hands to do their straightening.

"I'm not complaining, I'm flattered. Come back to me?" she ended, taking a step back and smiling softly.

His thumb and forefinger gripped her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were demanding, and he ended with a bite to her bruised lips. Then he was out the door, going to do God knows what, but her heart went with him nonetheless, and she knew there would never be a happy ending in store for her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Semi-explicit smut ahead! You've been warned! ;)**

 **Also reviews are like...really good coffees, and I need more, please!**

Chapter 9

Sophie had done some investigating and found that a dress she would find suitable for a mob event was probably quite expensive, and because the populous tended to get crazy around the holidays, there were plenty of extra shifts to pick up. Victor was gone more often than not lately, so her absences weren't missed. Sophie decorated her apartment with little decoration, a fake, four foot christmas tree on her unused dining table, pre-lit and decorated with small red ornaments.

One night after leaving the hospital, she found herself in a familiar predicament, with a black sedan sliding up to the curb in front of her just east of the hospital.

The door opened and out he came, beautiful and dangerous in his sharp suit. He tended to favor all black ensembles these days, she noted.

Sophie grasped the collar of her winter coat with her gloved hands and walked over to him, blinking away snowflakes.

He wore no coat, and although the snow landed in a light blanket on his shoulders, he seemed unfazed by the cold.

"Hey stranger," she said with half a smile.

A group of drunk male passerbys whistled and made some remarks as they stumbled by, hitting on everything with two legs and a somewhat feminine form under a winter coat. Sophie ignored them, but she watched as Victor's eyes narrowed and followed the guys' path.

"So….you haven't been home in a while…" she supplied and slid up closer to him, drinking in the warmth he radiated, especially when mad as hell.

"I need to be at the event early," Victor said instead, "A car will pick you up at three-thirty."

"Will you be in that car?" she asked, but received no reply as Victor whipped out his cell and pressed buttons angrily.

Moments later Dr. Romalotti was stumbling out of the ED, looking tired.

"Listen, Victor, I-" the Doctor began. The man at her side immediately stiffened under his fine suit and Sophie put a gloved hand on his arm, "Maybe, I can just help?" she offered.

Romalotti looked at her with both gratitude and sorrow.

Victor's eyes stared into her soul for a moment, before he stepped aside and guided her into the car.

"Your absence will be reported, and your debt will now include her time," she heard Victor snarl before he folded himself in after her and slammed the door, sending the signal to the driver to go forward.

"What are we stepping into?" Sophie asked, mentally preparing herself for some more chaos.

"The usual," Victor stated, his voice on edge.

"Are you hurt?" she asked worriedly, and placed her hand on his thigh. Victor looked from her hand to the partition, but made no move to remove her hand.

"I am unhurt."

Sophie nodded, but was still frowning, "What?" she pressed.

"If anyone ever doesn't survive, it is easy to blame Romalotti and his often influenced state," Victor answered, his entire form rigid.

"Well no one's died on us yet," Sophie scoffed, feeling a bit offended.

"It better stay that way," stated Victor as they pulled up to the mafiosi clinic.

His obvious anxiety had rubbed off on her, so she was shaky as she pulled off her coat and gloves, then began to retrieve supplies and scrub up.

By now she was beginning to recognize faces, but still couldn't place their names, so the guys just nodded at her in recognition and looked with fear over her shoulder at Zsasz while she sewed them up.

When everyone had been cleaned up nearly four hours later, Victor demanded a car be left for them and ordered everyone back to work.

"See, I didn't kill anyone," Sophie teased, but inside she was saying prayers of thanks.

"Hnn," he rumbled and turned the lights off and moved to the door. Sophie frowned at him again and put on her coat and gloves before they exited and climbed into the awaiting car. Victor closed the passenger door behind her and then moved to climb into the driver's side.

"You're….grumpy," she supplied.

He said nothing, only a jump of a muscle in his neck signaling that he had heard her.

"Stressed?" she continued, "This party is gonna be a big deal for you, isn't it?"

Silence was her companion on the drive, but he surprised her when they parked in the residence's garage and made her way to her apartment together. They entered the apartment and locking the door began their routine of flipping on the light, kicking off their shoes, and taking off jackets.

Victor loosened his tie and walked around the apartment, eyeing her little fake Christmas tree.

"Hungry?" Sophie asked, and he grunted in denial.

They climbed into the shower together, and Sophie decided to take a bit of control for herself. As Victor stood with his back to the shower head, craning his head this way and that to let the warm water pour over his tense neck, Sophie knelt.

His brown eyes snapped open at the feeling of her mouth and hands whispering over him, and very quickly his breathing became ragged.

"Sophie," he moaned with savageness, and she purred happily against him, sending his head back against the tile of the shower. One of his hands was behind him against the tile, and the other was on her head, fingers intermittently clawing into her locks of hair.

Victor let out a strangled gasp as she sucked on him hard, and then very gently let a sharp incisor graze over him. He cursed and she pulled away slightly for a dark, breathless laugh before once again taking him whole into her mouth. He cursed again, and soon was groaning with release.

"Better? " came her soft whisper, and a small hand was on his chest. He felt her lips dance across his jawline, fingers running over his tallies. Frankly, he wanted to devour her whole, take her succulent lips and erase any difference in their beings. Victor loved control, loved power, but this little minx took it all out from under him with so little effort, it infuriated him just as much as it drove him insane with need of her.

Victor turned off the shower and snapped the curtain back, grabbing their towels and handing Sophie her own. As she dried her hair, she would glance at him with that impossibly soft look in her eyes, green eyes that were still dark with desire and mischief.

It was becoming….annoying and tiresome to quell this desire to completely meld his professional world with his personal one. The fact that there were now two parts to his world was an altogether new thing to Victor. There were times when he wanted to demand her to relinquish her position as a hospital nurse and work exclusively for Don Falcone. Her lifestyle could be lavish and comfortable, and she would be above menial things. Yet there was a deep part of him that was resolute despite his efforts that there should always be a degree of separation. This little one just seemed so determined to follow wherever he would lead her, follow him straight into the dark.

With firm force, he took her hand and pulled her into the darkened bedroom. He laid her across the bed, and he let his actions and his body display all the things that he couldn't ever bring himself to say.

His claim on her was resolute, and she was his, heart, body and soul. She had as much of him as he'd given to anyone, that his duty could spare. He sometimes hated her for making him feel burdened by his duty. He _liked_ to kill people, as close to loving it as Victor himself could love something. And yet, even when he was carving vengeance into someone's flesh or blowing them off the surface of the earth with a pull of the trigger, he'd find his mind climbing back under these white covers with her, scaling her walls and climbing into her open window.

Her legs parted for him with familiar ease, as did her lips, with his name there, uttered as if in prayer.

He wasn't satisfied until she was digging her nails into his back, and her body was convulsing under his with a tightness that pushed him over that edge to follow her into star studded darkness.

His phone buzzed on the counter in the bathroom.

Victor rose from her, sitting on his heels, knees between her splayed legs.

Sophie let out a deep sigh, but let out an alluring squeal when his hands turned her over onto her belly and angled her hips up and back to meet his own.

"Oh Victor, OH!" she shrieked in the darkness.

His phone vibrated again in the room behind them. His need for her was painful in its intensity. Victor wrapped her drying blonde hair around his right hand and made a fist, and pounded into her hard.

Sophie contorted against him in pleasure and he snarled and grunted in satisfaction.

She was _his_ Sophie.

When Victor decided that he was finished and Sophie was spent, he removed himself from her and her bed with reluctance and anger in his heart. Her form was sprawled against the bed, breathing ragged and issuing coos of pleasure.

He flipped on the bathroom light and noted his phone messages. He replied with a text and after eyeing his appearance in the mirror, he began to shave per his usual routine. He heard her leave the bed and then she was there in the doorway, one of his long sleeved shirts no longer in the closet but draped over her naked form. Sophie leaned against the doorway, watching his ministrations, and his eyes followed the flutter of the hem over her thighs, noted the slick sheen of the inside of her thighs, and he inhaled deeply breathing the smell of them in. He could go again….but once again his eyes found his phone and with an inward litany of profanity, he continued to shave.

"I have something for you," she said suddenly, and her tousled blonde head disappeared from the doorway.

Her once sleepy eyes were twinkling when he exited the bathroom. He ignored the leather box in her hands and disappeared into the closet to dress. When he emerged, she looked a little perturbed by the set of her lips, but her eyes still twinkled.

She slid up to him and held out the leather box to him, about the size of his hand.

"Merry early Christmas," she said happily.

When he opened the box he stared at its contents.

"They match your ring…" she said after moments of silence and slid up next to him, "They're black diamond, custom crafted."

Pride was evident in her words, but Victor couldn't determine the words that he was supposed to say, or put a name to the mixture of heat and pain in the right side his chest. She raised her hands, and after a moment of hesitation, she secured the black skull tie pin to his tie, and then put the matching black skull cufflinks on.

She closed the box and put it under her arm, before taking his hand and studying the inspiration piece.

"Hmm, matches better than I could have hoped," she said, pleased with herself.

There was more silence as he stared at his hand between hers, and he felt her grip waver.

"Do you not like them?" she asked softly.

Instead, he pulled his hand out of hers, and disappeared back into the living room, and returned a moment later, a box of his own in his hand.

"For you to wear to the event," he mumbled.

The velvet box was shoved into her hands, and Sophie's green eyes grew large with wonder as she opened the lid. Diamond stud earrings the size of her thumbnails were resting in the box, and a white gold necklace with a single round cut diamond.

"Oh Victor, it's beautiful, " Sophie breathed, and ran her fingers reverently over the expensive items.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and she blinked up at him, coming out of a reverie with her eyes glittering.

He made a move to immediately leave, but a hand was on his face, and then she was on her toes and pressing a soft but firm kiss to his lips.

"Thankyou, Victor."

He rumbled in his chest, and let himself linger at her touch for a moment, before pushing away from her.

"I love you," her soft voice came.

"I know," he muttered, and he disappeared.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The morning of the twenty-fourth had Sophie out the door early to get her hair and nails done, then heading back to the apartment to get dressed and put a few touches of makeup on.

As the time neared and still no sign of her lover, Sophie guessed she would be meeting him there. With silent reverence she slid the diamonds studs into her ears and the necklace around her neck, fastening each and adjusting them just so. After moving a few things into her new white clutch and after repeatedly checking the clock, Sophie made her way out of the apartment and down to the curb, where she waited only a moment and suffered some appreciative and questioning glances before a black limousine pulled up and a man dressed in uniform opened the door for her and helped her in.

Sophie gazed out the window as they drove to the outskirts of Gotham, where large pine trees were tall and dressed with snow. Up a winding road they turned, and soon a mansion came into view, with trees that were wrapped with white lights. The sun was beginning its descent in the sky, and the car carrying Sophie was the only one there as it pulled up and she was helped out.

"Thank you," Sophie murmured as she looked up at the building and marveled. Garland of evergreen was draped around the front, gilded with lights and baubles.

Sophie nervously touched the side swept chignon of her hair resting against the right side of her neck, and fingered the diamond at her neck before approaching the two uniformed men at the door with guns not so hidden under their jackets.

"I'm Victor Zsasz's guest," she introduced herself at the door, watching their eyes widen as they looked her over and then opened the large oak doors before her.

The inside was overwhelming and beautiful. There was a grand entryway with white walls and doors on either side of her that farther along led into a large open space that was fairly empty but for mafiosi in tuxedos touching their ear pieces and reporting in to confirm uninterrupted communication.

Sophie swallowed and looked at a door to her right that was half way closed, letting anyone look into the room and enter if they wished. The first door was a sitting room with ornate sitting areas cushioned with red velvet. The next room was a library, and Sophie slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the room.

She took a moment to text Victor, and after returning her cell to her clutch, she began to study the books that lined the walls, running her fingertips over their leather bindings.

The door opened and the closed, and she felt his heat at her bare back.

Sophie turned, heart racing and found Victor looking handsome as hell in a black on black tuxedo, with his black diamond skulls glittering occasionally under the chandelier above them. His eyes were impossibly dark as he gazed at her, eyes roaming over her appreciatively from top to bottom. Black eyeliner and mascara, a rosy rouge on her lips that complimented her natural color was all that she had done for makeup, afraid to look caked on. Her dress was skin tight and snow white, long sleeved and open in the back to just at the small of her back, with a shimmer of marquise shaped rhinestones accenting the natural curves of the dress. A slit started at the middle of her left thigh and that's where the dress fanned out down to the ground, ending just at her black strappy heels.

With a swift movement of hand he had locked the door behind him and was in front of her in the blink of an eye, pressing her against the book shelf, fingers trailing up her hips and to feel the skin of her bare back. His nose was pressed to where her neck and shoulder met, and there he inhaled deeply and rumbled in his chest pleasantly.

"Merry Christmas," she whispered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Then his lips were on hers, leaving her breathless, and his fingers were slinking their way under the slit of the dress at her thigh, pushing it up and she felt his hardness against her lower abdomen. Sophie felt herself being lifted, one of his thighs between hers and she was feeling drunk on kisses.

Her hands were just parting his suit jacket, feeling the harness hidden there when there came a cackle of voices from the speaker in his ear. Victor let out an animalistic sound against her neck, and then his hands were lowering her, and he was stepping back.

Sophie breathed heavily and pulled her dress back down as Victor eyed her and re-buttoned his jacket.

"Guests are arriving, mingle as you need. Continue to address yourself as my guest if asked. I will meet with you again as time allows it," he growled and with a long appraising look he was unlocking the door and slipping out to do his job once again. Sophie couldn't help but smile to herself as she re-applied her lipstick and watched through the open door as women in lovely dresses and men in nice suits trickled in.

Lovely music began to play, violins and cellos from deeper within the house and Sophie slipped out to mingle silently, taking in all the sights.

Uniformed servers offered her a glass of champagne which she took and hors devours which she indulged in as she walked. Every now and then she caught glimpses of Victor, and most of the time he was shadowing and older gentleman with gray hair, a young blonde woman in a ruby red dress at his side.

By the intent way Victor followed him, that man must be Don Carmine Falcone. From far away, he really just looked like an old man, Sophie mused. When she looked at the girl next to him, Sophie admired her dress and the way it matched her classic red lips. Her eyes though...they were a bit glassy, and nervous as they darted around at the people she was introduced to, nodding at others as her arms remained intertwined with the Don's. He was much too old, and she much too young, and the way he touched her...it made Sophie's skin crawl.

A slow dance was played by the string quartet, and the Don led his counterpart to the floor and spun her around. Sophie watched as Victor melted into the shadows, and then when she couldn't see him again, she turned to look at the crowd, sipping on her champagne.

Most faces she didn't recognize, but some made her skin start to feel creepy crawly again, politicians, local celebrities, well known heads of business, all people in high positions of power in Gotham. Sophie recognized the shock of red in a black hairdo on the extremely well dressed and tiny black woman that had been at Mooney's. Her eyes were following the Don and his partner, looking...hungry. Sophie's eyes continued their dance over the crowd, when she spotted Doctor Romalotti, chatting up a young redheaded server.

Her stomach twisted, and Sophie tried to disappear somewhere, but not before Francis seemed to feel eyes on him, and his landed on her.

Sophie couldn't escape as she found herself blocked in by people chatting and watching the dancers when Francis had pushed his way to her, face drained of color and angry.

"Sophie!" he snapped, and with a bruising grip on her elbow he pulled her into a corner, away from the crowd. "What are you doing here?!"

"I could ask you the same!" Sophie hissed back, "Not enough debts, Dr. Rome?"  
"I happen to be childhood friend of Carmine's," the doctor snapped at her, and then looked down at his feet, losing his fire. "It's only because we've been friends for so long, he doesn't put a stop to my….debts."

Sophie yanked her arm out of his grip and frowned at him, "Friends in high places, huh? And here I just thought you just happened to fall in with the wrong crowd," she said hushedly, trying to not draw any more attention to themselves as a few in the crowd around them looked over their shoulders at the raised voices.

Doctor Romalotti scratched the back of his head, and then looked at her again, seriously.

"Sophie, what are you doing here? Why? This is just putting you in more danger, dragging you deeper into the lion's den."

"I'm Victor's guest," she said, lifting her chin, feeling defensive. The doctor let out a disgusted sound and stepped back from her.

"Oh don't act like you're any better than I am, Francis," Sophie spat.

"He's dangerous, Sophie, so so dangerous," her friend whispered.

"You are too, in your own way," she reminded him, "Now have a good night Francis, I know I'm going to," she said with finality, and then slipped through the crowd, away from him and all her fears.

As the night went on, Sophie found herself in the library again, cautiously removing books and running her fingertips over the pages. First editions, nearly all of them from what she could tell. She breathed in the smell of parchment and leather, the noise of the crowd rising and falling in a world far removed from her.

"Ah someone else who appreciates the finer things," came an oily voice behind her, and Sophie turned to find a young man had silently entered the room and was standing not two feet from her.

His hair was as oily as his voice, frightfully pale skin and a hooked nose, and a deceptively meek smile on his thin lips. His icy blue eyes were dancing across her figure and he took a hobbling step forward. A bone hadn't set right in his leg, Sophie concluded and watched as his hands nervously straightened his ornate, but rumpled suit.

"The Don has a lovely collection," Sophie said, her calm voice surprising even herself.

"Ah, that he does. The Don is a man of fine tastes, yes, yes he is," the little man said, ending with a shrill giggle.

"Oswald Cobblepot, close friend of the Don's," he introduced himself, and held his hand out.

He was so eager for acceptance, and very squirrely in his demeanor.

Sophie moved the book to one hand and took his hand, shaking it, "Sophie," she introduced with a small smile.

"Being a close friend of the Don's," Oswald began, coming closer, "I don't believe I have ever had the pleasure of meeting you before, Miss Sophie. I never forget a beautiful face," he praised.

"No, I don't believe we have met, Mr. Cobblepot," Sophie said with a smile, and returned the book to its place on the shelf.

"Oh, Oswald, please," he clucked, "A beauty like you shouldn't be hidden in this place, can I escort you out to the crowd? Maybe for a refresher on your champagne, my lady?"

Sophie giggled despite herself at his proper language, and she could tell the way his face immediately darkened that he felt slighted. He was obviously very paranoid of his gait, and Sophie, feeling contrite stepped forward to take his arm, surprising both of them.  
"Thank you, Oswald, I'm not accustomed to being called 'my lady'. I'll take you up on that escort!," she said with a smile, and the raging shadows of his face immediately dissipated.

She kept apace with him as he hobbling led her to the library door and out into the entry way. Sophie noted he received ridiculing looks and some of recognition from the mafiosi as he led her along, merrily.

Sophie felt torn, had she made a terrible mistake? Yet he seemed lonely, but she wasn't ignorant of the fact that he seemed quite dangerous in that moment when he had felt slighted.

"You never did tell me how you know Carmine, dear Sophie," Oswald chimed, inclining his head to bat his eyelashes at her.

Sophie smiled thinly, "Oh, didn't I? Well, I don't know the Don, personally. I am Victor Zsasz's guest," she replied.

The smile on his face remained for a second, before his arm slipped from hers, and his smile began to waver in place, blue eyes now darting amongst the crowd.

"Oh? Zsasz you say? How surprising! What a lovely creature he's brought us!" Oswald squawked, "If you don't mind Miss Sophie, I just saw someone I must talk to, please, have a wonderful time," the little man ended with a nervous giggle, and then hobbled away, quickly.

Sophie watched him go quietly, and then a server was politely asking for her glass, and replacing it with a full one.

"Hello," came a feminine purr to her right.

Sophie turned and was met with that shock of red hair.

"I don't believe I know you," the lithe woman purred again, and slid up to Sophie's side, eyes roving over her unabashedly, judging.

"Sophie," she introduced herself, and held out her hand, clutch under her left arm and champagne glass held delicately between her fingers. The small woman had long, sharp nails and she shook Sophie's hand sharply with a laugh, "Fish, Fish Mooney," she greeted.

"You know Penguin?" Fish Mooney asked, her pupils dilating and constricting as devilishly as a cat's.

"Penguin?" Sophie repeated and frowned, feeling at great unease with this woman.

"Yes, our dear Oswald," the woman said with anything but fondness.

"Oh, well, yes, I just met him," Sophie said, looking off in the direction he had gone, but the little man had disappeared just like Victor always did.

"Let me tell you a secret, don't trust him," Fish spat, "He only wishes he was high society,"

Sophie pursed her lips and took a sip of her champagne, ignoring the deadly stare the woman leveled her way.

"How do you know the Don?" Fish purred.

"Oh, I don't know him. I'm here as a guest," Sophie admitted, "This is all new to me."

The woman's smile grew into a Cheshire cat grin, "Oh, really? Who's guest are you, honey?"

"Victor Zsasz," Sophie said softly, and felt like she had done something terribly wrong.

"Oh Victor?! I thought he only favored whores, but you don't look like one of those," Fish tutted motherly-like.

A blush flamed across Sophie's cheeks and she fought the urge to fidget under the woman's scrutinous glare.

"Don't know the Don, you say? Well, I happen to be a favorite of his," Fish gushed fakely, "Let's go introduce the two you, the man loves a pretty face,"

Then the woman's claw like hand was weaving its way through Sophie's arm and leading her through the crowd, and up a grand staircase to a loft above the shining marble floor where the quartet played and a few couples danced.

Sophie felt her heart sinking and her color leaving her as Fish pulled her along. Victor was coming into view, staring at the couple the Don was talking to. Sophie could clearly make out the Don's lined face as she was brought closer, and the young, unlined face of his pretty date.

Fish buzzed with energy and glee at her side as they waited politely for the couple in front of them to finish their greetings, and then Sophie was being pulled and pushed forward.

"Don Falcone," Fish greeted, subdued and sweet, "Merry Christmas! I trust your evening is going well? I wanted to introduce you to this lovely dear I just met."

Sophie smiled nervously as the Don looked over her, and his eyes smiled at her, "Well hello, I don't believe we've met," he said with a planted smile.

Sophie could feel the intensity of Victor's gaze, and knew that he was acutely aware of Fish's clawed hand at her back.

"Good evening, Don Falcone," she greeted, "I'm Sophie, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said with a wavering smile.

The Don took her hand and kissed it, "How did you come to be at my party Sophie? Don't get me wrong, I'm very pleased that you've joined us," he said with a laugh, and his date flickered a glance at Sophie, before her eyes were once again staring at the woman at Sophie's side.

"I-" Sophie began, knees feeling weak and shaky.

"Carmine! I see you've met my co-worker and friend, Sophie!"

Sophie blinked rapidly as Francis slid between her and Fish, and his arm was going around her shoulders.

"She's as a close as a daughter to me," Francis continued and after giving Sophie a wink, he was shaking the Don's hand energetically and then engulfed in a hug by the Don.

"Francis! Good to see you! So you're responsible for bringing this lovely lady to grace us with her presence? Fantastic!" Carmine laughed.

Sophie caught Fish's surprised and perturbed look as she slunk away, then once again turned to the Don, sending beseeching looks over at Victor who was as still as stone.

"Sophie...she's my occasional helper," Francis said with a lilt to his tone, and once again squeezed Sophie around the shoulders.

Carmine's eyebrows frowned, "Oh! Well, what a pleasure to meet someone who's done me such a gesture of kindness!" Then the Don was putting her face in his hands and kissing her cheeks, and that muscle in Victor's jaw was jumping.

"It's been my pleasure," Sophie stuttered.

"Well you go on, Sophe," dismissed Francis, "The gentlemen have to talk, and I haven't met this pretty lady yet, hello my dear!" the doctor gushed, and Sophie took the opportunity to nod at the Don and then flee.

Francis had warned her, the lion's den he'd said. If only she'd known there be so many lions…

Sophie was recovering in the library, leaning against a shelf as a couple made out on the chaise lounge against the far wall. She held her head in her hand and breathed deeply, slowly, and thought of Victor, shaving in her bathroom, and her heart grew calm.

It really hadn't gone too badly, Sophie thought to herself, just as the evening took a turn.

There was a commotion from outside, shouting and the couple on the lounge broke apart, their heads turned to the wall of the sitting room next door, listening. Sophie looked out the open door, and saw people leaving the sitting room in a hurry, running towards the back, hissing about not being seen.

Mafiosi in black tuxedos went towards the front door, guns drawn and Sophie backed away from the door. The couple on the lounge adjusted themselves and hurriedly slipped out into the hall and towards the back just as the front door opened, blue and red flashing lights filled the hall and the gunfire started.

Sophie thought of Victor, of Doctor Rome, and pressing herself into a shelved corner, took out of her phone and texted them: 'GCPD. Run.'

Then inside, she began laughing. When had the police become the enemy? And hadn't she seen some law officials here as well? What kind of raid was this?

Sophie jerked as gunfire sounded outside the open door, and then Victor was slipping in, shutting the door nearly completely as to not draw attention, and making his way towards her with great strides, a gun in each hand.

Gun powder dusted his black suit, and blood spatter was on his right cheek.

"Are you hurt?" he snapped, eyes assessing for damage.

Sophie shook her head, while her own eyes studied him for damage. Victor's hand came arching toward her, hitting a panel above her head, and suddenly the bookshelf was swinging inward in the middle.

"You will follow this path to where it ends. It leads to a shed far from here, and a road not far from that. Stay hidden from the view of the road, but wait there. Either myself or a car will come to get you. Do not make yourself visible."

Sophie stood her ground, "And you? What about you Victor?" There was a thud of bodies hitting the floor, yelling outside, and bullets hitting the walls, but none came through the heavy plaster.

"You will listen to me now, Sophie. You will obey me."

"I'm not leaving you here to die, Victor," she hissed back, green eyes flashing.

"TO THE FLOOR! HANDS UP!" came a yell from the now open door.

A gun pointed Sophie's way, and as she watched the young officer's hands twitch, she felt time slow. A shadow crossed her vision and Victor turned to stand in front of her, raising his arms and firing rapidly at the officer in the door, and the one who had come up behind to offer back-up.

When he turned back to her, he was miraculously unharmed, and Sophie began to cry as she ran her hands over his chest, feeling for wounds.

With a gun still in his hand, Victor was pushing her inside the darkened passage.

"No, no, I want to stay with you," she warbled, nearly losing her grip on her clutch, which had been held in a cramp like vice under her armpit.

"You distract me," he hissed, "Now run, Sophie, and live. Do this, for me, now."

" I love you, I love you Victor," Sophie breathed, and then stepped back.

He slammed his fist against the panel again, and he was turning and firing as the door closed between them.

Sophie kicked off her heels, grabbed them in her fist and ran.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm just gonna establish right here and now, in case anybody had any illusions otherwise, or feel that I am under a similar illusion: Sophie and Victor's relationship is by no means a healthy one. Yet, these are two broken, and heavily flawed people coming together and fitting the jagged pieces of themselves together in the only way they both can. No excuses, just the truth. Hope you enjoy, this is where it starts to get interesting...for me as the plotter of this story anyway.**

Chapter 11

Sophie ran and ran, mindless of the pebbles and twigs under her feet. The passage seemed hardly to be used and was dark, with only a random dim light spaced at long distances from each other. Every now and then she would look back, but no one seemed to be following her.

It seemed like an hour or more had passed when she finally came to another door, and when she opened it, she was in the shed Victor had told her about. She closed the door behind her, and then noticing the small window in the door, bent and slid up to the door, noting the lock was on the inside, and locked it. Flashing police lights were to the east of her, the house up on the hill to her left and a surprisingly great distance away. Although she had paid no attention to curves on her path, it had indeed taken her around or under the house and back towards the main road, but farther on, beyond the house, farther than where guests would have turned off, and in the opposite direction of where everyone had run. Sophie waited for the inevitable police car to drive by, shine a spotlight into the woods, but all of their attention seemed to be focused on the house and the lands behind it. People in fancy clothes were being chased over the snow in the front of the yard before being tackled or shot by police. Others were being pushed into the backs of police cars, and yet it wasn't nearly as many people as had been in the house itself.

Sophie slid to a tired heap onto the ground, the adrenaline rush leaving her, and the shock setting in. She didn't care about the white of her dress getting ruined, only put her head in her hands, and focused on breathing deep and slow.

It was becoming cold, and the next time she looked at the window, fewer police cars were outside the mansion, and the front yard had been taped off, Sophie could see the lights of the police cars flashing off of the reflective yellow. She desperately wanted to text him, but feared she would put him in more danger, maybe give away his position if he was in one.

Sophie began to wonder if she should make a spectacle of herself and lead some officers away from the house. Considering her options, Sophie fidgeted with her dress, and then began to take the length of it and knotted it just below her hip. Yay for dress slits, she inwardly rejoiced. Goosebumps broke out over her legs from the cold, but she ignored it as she unlocked the door and crept out. Her white dress blended in with the snow, but was stark against the dark wood of the shed as she slid along its side. A branch broke in the distance, and Sophie's head turned to see two officers coming her way, flashlights dim in a new onset of falling snow.

Her back was numb from the cold, and her legs were heavy, but she back tracked slowly, towards the front of the cabin, and ran into someone. Sophie inhaled sharply, just as a hand clapped over her mouth. His heat was tremendous against her back, and she wilted against him. His other hand was tight on her hip as he pulled her to the front and then spun her to face him.

Victor motioned for her to be silent, bullet grazes dotted across his face, but no further damage from what she could see. He gave her a commanding glare, and then like a cat he slid around the other side of the shed and blended into the dark silhouettes of the trees.

Sophie held herself still for a minute, before once again peering around the side of the shed. The cops were closer now, and having spotted the shed, began to pick up their pace, their voices now being carried to her ears.

"I'm gonna radio this in before we get too far out," one stated, pausing to fumble his numb fingers to his radio.

The other cop continued his advance forward, flashlight pouring over the snow, closer and closer. A blurr of motion to the right drew Sophie's eye, and she caught sight of Victor creeping from tree to tree, and then advancing on the cop who had finally gotten his fingers to grip the radio button properly.

Very suddenly Victor was behind the man, the shadow of his hands darting up to the cop's head. A quick jerk, and the man fell to his knees, and then disappeared beneath the snow.

"Jesus Chris, did you radio this yet?" the closer cop yelled, swinging his flashlight back to where his partner had been, where now there was only snow.

"Chris?" he repeated, flashlight swinging this way and that.

Sophie inhaled deeply and then dashed to a tree, disturbing a branch here and there.

The flashlight swung her way as she slipped behind a tree.

"GCPD, you better freeze and drop to the ground, or I will shoot you!" the cop yelled into the night.

Sophie gripped her heels tight in each hand and then stepped to her right just slightly, and this time, she stepped on a branch without meaning to. She cursed silently, and the light of the flashlight came closer, as did the cop's loud breathing.

"Freeze!" yelled the cop.

Strangely calm, Sophie stepped from behind the tree, into the light of the flashlight, which hit her full in the face and she squinted, frowning in its brightness.

"Drop to the ground, hands behind your head!"

Sophie dropped to the ground, and did as she was told.

'Just run' she thought towards Victor 'Run, be free.'

The light of the flashlight fell just slightly and Sophie was able to just catch a glimpse of the man's face as he came closer, before Victor's visage appeared behind him, and Victor's hands were on either side of his head and twisting. The snap was sickening, and he fell boneless to the ground.

Sophie's arms fell to her sides, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Victor walked on the man and over him, offering a hand that she accepted and brought her to her feet. Sophie bent and retrieved her heels, and then looked up at him, her hand still in his.

"Are you hurt?" she whispered.

"Hnn," he rumbled, and touched her face with his free hand.

"What now?" she whispered, and her eyes flickered to the body behind him.

"Now, Fish Mooney and Salvatore Maroni will come to a bloody end," he said like a promise, and led her through the snow farther into the darkness.

Eventually they reached a far distance, and Victor used the hand that wasn't holding her own to text someone, and a car with no lights on came and picked them up.

"What happened? Are you in trouble?" Sophie muttered once they were inside.

"Betrayed," Victor summed up for her, "As we've suspected we would be one day. I got the Don out and safe, my job was done to the highest degree, and he is pleased. Your text to myself and Francis alerted us before even those who wanted to leave unseen had reached where we were in the house."

Sophie smiled at his tight grip on her hand and brought it to her cheek.

"I'm so glad you're safe," she whispered, "You should have run, not taken on the extra risk for me."

"I'm not a coward," he snapped.

"I never said you were, you're too daring for your own good," she rebutted and then shivered, letting go of his hand to rub some heat into her toes. His suit jacket magically appeared around her shoulders, and then he was on his phone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and speaking rapidly.

When they pulled up to her apartment, Sophie wiped off the blood spatter on his cheek before they left the vehicle. With his arm wrapped around her shoulders, and her heels and clutch in her hand, to all the world they appeared to be a couple just coming home from a long night of partying to welcome in the holiday. Sophie's dress was still knotted at just below her hip, hiding the dirt stains there.

He walked her to her door and hung up on the phone just as she opened it. Victor followed her in, but made no move to take off his shoes. Sophie gripped the lapels of the jacket tightly and turned to look at him, knowing.

"I've more business to attend to tonight. I may be gone for an undetermined amount of time after this."

"I understand," she said softly, and looked around at her apartment, and wished only that she could follow him. Nowhere felt safe anymore without him.

"Your attire fit the evening, and I was pleased with your actions, you carried yourself well among the jackals."

Sophie laughed heartily at that, and took off his coat and handed to him, knowing he would need it. As he slipped the jacket back on, she began to undo the pins from her hair, letting the chignon fall loose.

"I felt like I made a terrible fool of myself, did so many things wrong."

Victor shrugged and buttoned the front of the suit, "The Don was pleased by your presence...and Cobblepot.." Victor paused and looked at her hard.

"He is...a questionable ally, deceitful and playing to his own endgame, take care to reveal very little to him, if anything in the future."

"I got the feeling he could be dangerous," Sophie acknowledged, and setting the pins on the counter, ran her fingers through her hair.

"He raved of your beauty," Victor murmured, and then his fingers were lightly brushing over her jaw, up to her temple and down the side of her cheek.

"You were as a princess," he continued, "My Sophie, all in white."

A heated blush went over her cheeks, and she placed her hand over his own, while the other fiddled with the diamond at her neck.

"Wait for me, my Sophie," he rumbled, strangely subdued, and caressing her face, placed a kiss to her temple, and then left.

"Always," she whispered, and locked the door behind him.

 **..ooOoo...**

Francis had given her a big hug the next time she'd seen him at work, and although they never did speak of that night, their teamwork within the hospital had improved as a result. Neither of them were called upon for anything, and neither of them questioned it.

The New Year came and went with no word of him. When Valentine's day came rolling along, Sophie swallowed her fears, but suspected she was developing an ulcer as a result. While she was working that holiday, a bouquet of red and white roses was delivered to the ED desk, her name presented by the delivery boy.

All the females on the unit congregated around Sophie as she signed for the delivery, and was alerted that she'd received 4 dozen roses by her peers. The card was signed only with a computer printed 'V', but Sophie's heart became immediately a million times lighter, and her face hurt with the intensity of her smile.

"Someone realized what a catch you are, hmm, little girl?" asked Ruth with a wink and an elbow.

Sophie handed a rose to each lady there, and to each of her female patients that day. When Francis came in for his shift at the end of hers, he looked from the roses held in her arms to the smile on her face.

"I will never understand you," he muttered, and shook his head, but wished her a happy holiday.

Sophie required a taxi to get home that night with her flowers and she knew that she probably wouldn't hear from him again for much longer still, but it didn't matter, because … he had let her know he was okay.

Bad days and good days came and went, and Sophie worked and worked, keeping her mind and her hands busy. As usual, new interns came and went from her unit, but this newest round had brought a young man who just wouldn't get the silent hint that she wasn't interested. His name was Isaac and he wore his hair in a ponytail and his eyes were a rich rich blue in a face that smiled easily. Sophie could easily see herself falling for him, pre-Victor entrance into her life, but now she found nothing of interest in any male that crossed her path.

Isaac invited her for coffee, stayed after his shifts to talk with her and ask her about her day. Each time she declined with a smile and a shake of her head.

"One day, you'll say yes," he said leaning over the counter as Sophie typed in her notes. She glanced up at him from the computer and quirked her lips, "I'm spoken for," she replied.

"I don't see a ring," Isaac teased.

"I don't need a ring," Sophie responded, hitting enter and then pushing away from the desk.

"I'd get you a ring," he continued.

Sophie turned and walked up to the counter, "Listen Isaac, I'm flattered, but really, I love him, and he loves me, and it isn't going to end anytime soon. I've loved him since I was six."

The intern's face fell, and she patted his hand and turned away. Once upon a time, he would have made her heart stutter, in fact, he reminded her of the man she'd foolishly given her virginity to in college. He'd dropped her so quickly once she had finally slept with him, and it had hurt, until she realized that she'd really just been thinking of that boy next door the whole five minutes of it.

He probably didn't even own a nice suit anyway, Sophie joked to herself.

It was April before she saw him again. Sophie was giving report to Claudia, paging through scribble of notes when a black silhouette caught the corner of her eye. His head shone under the fluorescent lighting of the ED, and his suit was black on black, now with the addition of a vest underneath his jacket she noted. Sophie raced through the rest of her report and with little regard to how she looked, she bounded to the break room, grabbed her light sweater and slid her badge through the time clock before turning to him.

Her smile was going to split her face in two, she concluded, and with a happy bounce she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. She'd missed the scent of his cologne, of him. Her hand slipped into his, and he turned to lead her out.

"Excuse me," a voice stuttered, and Victor paused as someone barely caught himself before colliding into him, and then stepped around them.

Sophie caught Isaac's wide eyes staring at her as they made their way around him, but she paid him no mind as she nearly skipped in her joy.

Their lovemaking in her apartment that night was fierce and rough, and Sophie wanted to sear the image of him spasming underneath her as she rocked on top of him into her eyelids. His fingers were bruising as they gripped her hips and his teeth were a white flash as he let out a stifled roar, and his heels lifted them off the bed. Sophie laughed breathlessly, and ran her nails down his chest lightly.

When she slid off to his side and rested her head on his chest, she felt one of his hands begin to wind her longer blonde hair around his fist, over and over again, pinching strands between his fingertips, taking in its texture.

Just as she was starting to doze, he began to speak.

"Management is changing, and I am being gifted to a new boss," he rumbled.

Sophie frowned, "You're not a possession to be given from anybody to anybody," she said, feeling anger bloom fresh and red in her chest. His loyalty was so fierce, she hated that it was traded so thoughtlessly.

"It is an honor to be thought so highly of," he said with a finality, "And I get to use my talents freely."

She rolled that around in her head before speaking, "I heard Maroni's body was found,"

A rumble of acknowledgement came from his chest, "Yet new challengers rise to take his place everyday."

Sophie nodded, and traced her fingers over all the new tallies, on his arm, his side, his neck. All of them possible takers of his life, she was coming to realize, and it made her heart seize for a moment.

"I have a proposition for you," he murmured, and Sophie blinked.

"It would provide us with closer and more frequent proximity, but would also involve you becoming a part of my...profession. Times are changing, and the world itself will change. Safety wont' be guaranteed for anyone in Gotham anymore."

Sophie laid back to stare at the ceiling and pondered.

"Wouldn't I be more of a liability?" she finally questioned.

"I would make that no longer a problem. You would need to trust me completely and utterly," his voice graveled.

"I already do," she replied instantly.

"Are you willing to give up this life for me, Sophie Summers?"

"To be with you?"

"Yes," he hissed in the dark.

"That's all I ever wanted," she replied, "There really isn't much to give up anyway."

"You'll never want for anything," there was that promising voice again.

"I only ever want you," she reminded him.

"Then we will begin soon. I would recommend giving Gotham General your two weeks notice," he said, moving over her again, eyes flashing in the dark.

So the next day, she did.


	12. Chapter 12

**Down the rabbit hole we go, ladies and gents! Enjoy!**

Chapter 12

Slowly and with a firm hand, Victor carved and molded Sophie into someone completely different, and less vulnerable than she'd ever been. He changed her from her head to her toes, yet deeper still, and all the changes left Sophie feeling a thrill that she'd never felt before.

Her hair color and cut was radically different to her, the color being a platinum blonde she'd only ever seen on celebrity singers, and the cut was edgy, with a fringe of bangs in the front, and the front edges touching her collarbone, with the back coming to a curving end just above the nape of her neck.

By choice she received two new piercings in her ears; the diamonds he'd given her became a constant adornment, as well as her necklace, but to her ears she added two new gifted additions, a black skull and white gold skull. Everything she wore would be purposeful, a warning and a mark, and Sophie found she didn't mind one bit being marked as Victor Zsasz's. Her nails from her fingers to her toes were always done, and carefully kept. Her makeup wasn't heavy, but dark and striking, lending to a sharp persona.

Her wardrobe changed to those that were ensembles seen in only the nicer catalogues, and the scrubs she wore for her new occupation were form fitting but sharp and professional. Her shoes always shone, and uniforms were always cleanly lined. She sat straighter and walked with her head high, and she answered to a higher authority only because she wanted to. Sophie kept her apartment as an alternative safe house, but Victor soon introduced her to the place where the rest of his nice suits were kept. The place was full of dark grays and blacks, but it was silent and soothing, and smelled of him. His sheets were nearly silken in texture, and black where all of hers had been white.

When it was just them, those were the times she craved like an addict, and not for the reasons of letting down her guard. When she was home she could put her hair up in a pony tail, dress in one of his shirts and pad around his own wooden floors and make dishes that sometimes they'd get to enjoy together.

Victor was a different kind of beast now, and she had a buzzing thrill within her chest when he'd walk through the door and eye her platinum blonde hair up in its ponytail, her lazy garb, and his touch would be so reverent, and then so demanding. She'd smile all day long, thinking of teeth marks dotting her shoulder, or hidden in the shadow of her thighs. Inside these walls, she was Sophie, the Sophie he left intact, hidden underneath a carefully crafted character who was a liability to no one, least of all herself.

A car took her to the clinic now, and she was given free reign to order whatever she wanted, and notified whomever was on hand when she would need Francis' help. Francis' debt had also been transferred when Falcone retired, and Penguin took up the reigns. When he'd first seen the new her, waiting for him in scrubs that were so blue they were black within the clinic, he couldn't say anything.

"Let's get to work, Doctor Romalotti," she said smoothly.

"What did he do to you, Sophie?" Romalotti hissed as they scrubbed in.

"This is all me," she purred with confidence, and with that the man blushed and said no more.

The men she worked on were reverently respectful to her and Sophie was careful to put faces to names now. She had a work phone and a Zsasz phone, and both were kept on her person at all times.

Penguin liked to hold staff meetings often, and the first time Sophie attended one, she held a deep appreciation for Victor's choice in her new persona. Penguin seemed to favor blondes, made the girls he surrounded him with wear wigs if they weren't naturals, and wear tuxedo uniforms that lookin akin to Playboy mansion lingerie. She fit in seamlessly with the gaggle of them, albeit more clothed. When they met again after that night long ago, she immediately recognized that he didn't seem to recognize her, but said her name like trying to catch a memory, and there might have been a flicker of recognition when he saw the skulls in her ears.

Although their relationship was well known, it was not spoken of, and the two of them never touched in the presence of others, an unwavering demand of Victor's. Sophie had her suspicions as to that, but in her heart of hearts, she kept memories of his hand trembling just slightly when he'd touch her after time apart. Any great amount of time apart was heavy on them both, she noted with a soft pleasantness beneath her breast. His just led him to bouts of extreme violence, and hers with a quieter presence and less gentle touch.

Victor's new ensemble was always black on black now, and she bought him yellow gold skull pieces to offer some contrast to his uniformity. A suit jacket was a rare sight, as he wore his gun harness proudly and without subtlety, his pieces clean and shining on either side of his chest.

A text came through as she set a bone back into place. Her patient yelped and she shot him a blank look before stripping off her gloves and retrieving her phone. They were to meet at the boss' for "a nice dinner and announcement".

Sophie felt a devilish smile curve her lips, Victor had been making some appearances with Oswald as of late, and she knew just the outfit she would wear, and licked her lips as she anticipated his reaction. Another groan came from her surgical table, and Sophie's green eyes flickered over at the man, "You may go,"

The man nodded and slid off the table, leaving. She texted her ride and turned off the lights in the clinic, headed for home.

Hours later found her at Oswald's mansion, stepping out from the town car and straightening the suit jacket she wore. Sophie felt eyes on her as she made her way inside, smiling like a dare with a pale pink lipstick on her lips.

Her white tipped nails fingered her most recent purchase, an onyx skull the size of a small plum that hung on a yellow gold chain and fell to a few inches below her xiphoid process. Her black stilettos clicked as she walked effortlessly to the typical meeting room, and found that she'd probably taken too much time prepping for this moment.

Penguin was already there, and it was expected that he wait for no one, so she added some speed to her step and made her way to her appointed spot on the right side of the table, near the far end, at the end of the fleet of blondes Penguin kept. The boss kept talking as she found her spot, but she noticed his icy blue eyes follow the plunge of suit jacket and the bare skin there to the skull above her abdomen.

With a smile she couldn't help, her green eyes flashed to Victor and saw that he was in his typical spot at Oswald's right, and the muscles in his jaw and neck were jumping as he took in all the skin she was showing, the utter lack of bra, and she thanked the fashion gods for double sided tape.

Sophie winked at him in a typically outlawed display of affection and crossing her legs, smoothed out the black expanse of her slacks.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm happy to announce that there will be a new commissioner of the Gotham police force soon, and I daresay, this is only the beginning of good things for us! I am so pleased that this is all coming together!" Cobblepot ended with a snicker, and raised his glass.

Everyone smiled and raised their glasses in return, and then dinner was served.

Sophie caught a few mafiosi staring down her jacket as she sat there and made polite conversation, and her lips curled in amusement.

When dinner was over, or rather Oswald had finished his meal, people began to slowly trickle out. Sophie touched her napkin to her lips and stood, adjusting her jacket and picking her clutch up off the table. She eyed the young girl that the boss kept around as eyes and ears on the street pick the pocket of a mafiosi. Slowly she made her way to the head of the table where Oswald was smiling with pride at himself and gazing lustily at one of the young women to his right.

Standing just in front of Victor, she placed a manicured hand on Oswald's shoulder, "I'm very happy that things are happening as you wanted them to, Mister Cobblepot," she said with a flash of white teeth. Oswald smiled at her, so purposefully gazing at her face, "Sophie, you know you can call me Oswald. But thank you, thank you for sharing in my joy with me. This means good things for us!" he ended again with a giggle.

Sophie nodded and smiled, giving his shoulder a friendly squeeze, and brushed past Victor, who was rigid and silent.

When she left, she had a swagger and sway to her step, and she climbed into her ride gracefully.

Oh tonight was going to be a sweet reunion, she mused. And in the darkness of the town car, Sophie laughed.

Victor was unhappy. Unhappy and mad as hell. Furious. Wound tight with rage. Heads had turned as she had entered, and heads had turned as she had left. And the way her hips had rolled with each step left half the men in the room changing their position in discomfort.

He'd given her this power, and he cursed himself.

Oswald had been staying his hand as of late, and it left Victor feeling….too full, and anxious.

Two of the girls approached Oswald and batted their eyelashes at him, and Victor knew the necessity of his presence was coming to an end.

One of the girls looked at him, curious as they all were, and he looked past her. She was nothing, and when Oswald tired of her, he would find a new girl.

She pouted a little before turning her attention completely back to Oswald, and Victor was acutely aware of the man's gestures and disappeared the moment the younger man waved him away, murmuring deviously to the women on his lap.

Victor left the room with long, angry strides, motioning for the doors to be closed behind him by guards standing in the hall. He took one of the cars outside back to his place, teeth grinding and fists gripping the steering wheel, while the muscles in his legs jumped and buzzed with adrenaline.

Victor plotted and cursed, and when he opened the front door, there she was.

The slacks were gone now, but her heels and the suit jacket remained, as did the onyx skull, a stark shadow against her ivory skin. Her green eyes were mischievous and glowing under her pale blonde bangs. Sophie stood on the other side of the black leather couch, fingers rolling the gold strand of her necklace between her fingertips, lips parted in a devilish smile in the dark of the room, only moonlight coming from a few windows to provide illumination.

Victor slammed the door behind him and nearly leapt at her.

"Your suit," he spat with distaste, "Was unacceptable,"

He prowled around the back of the couch, and on dainty heeled feet, she danced away, the edges of the jacket whispering against her thighs.

"I'd say the opposite," she purred.

"Don't play that role with me," Victor snapped, moving only to have her move again.

A palely dyed eyebrow quirked at him, knowing, but remaining silent.

"Your flirtation," he began moving again, and then stilled as she ran a manicured finger from the corner of her mouth down, and down.

"Mmm, yes, I do like to flirt with you, Mister Zsasz," she breathed.

"Unacceptable," he finished dryly, finding his anger and rage had turned into something else.

She blinked at him in the dark, waiting for him to move, but after moments of him unmoving, she strode toward him, the click of her heels sharp in the otherwise silent room.

Her lips were pursed just so as she undid his tie, and laid it on the couch. Her fingers moved to the snaps of his gun holsters next, and with care she set them aside. Next she was unbuttoning his shirt, and once his fists unclenched and rose to touch her, she lightly slapped them away.

Victor blinked at her, this creature he had created, and was at a loss. Sophie was pushing his shirt back and off him, then leaning forward and with a wicked tongue traced a path across his collarbone.

Her fingers were on his belt, but only to unbuckle it, and it left him straining and uncomfortable.

"How do you like my necklace?" Sophie asked, smoothing her hands over his chest, running fingernails over his tallies. Her breath fanned over his jaw and ear, and he quelled a desire to shudder.

"This is becoming tiresome, Sophie," Victor growled.

A finger dipped between his slacks and skin, teasing and sweeping.

"How do you like my necklace?" she repeated, and nipped at his earlobe.

He was silent for a long time before he answered, "It suits you."

Sophie's teeth bit and nipped at his deltoids, his sides, then she stepped back. Her eyes were luminous, and Victor worked at pulling off his shirt before he advanced on her again.

Her fingers were dancing over the buttons on the jacket, opening it ever so slowly, revealing her flesh to him, a sight he never tired of. Never ceased to cause a roar in his ears as his heart pumped blood at a vigorous pace.

"I like showing you my affection, others seeing that I am yours. It pleases me," she purred, letting the jacket fall open.

Sophie was bending then, to pluck off her strappy heels and kicking them off to the side.

"Let them know," she murmured, "Let them be jealous,"

Where oh where had Sophie Summers gone, Victor's brain questioned slyly, but there she was, it was in the softness now in her eyes as she padded up to him barefoot, shrugging off the jacket as she approached, wearing only that necklace.

Victor's hand raised, and felt the bird-like flutter of her pulse with his fingertips. If he desired to, he could at any moment remember her silhouette in the window across from his own back in that ramshackle neighborhood. The way his throat dried and his pulse raced as he watched her shadow contort and twist as she would change for the night. One day, he'd thought back then, she would be his.

Victor's fingers trailed down her neck, down her throat and breast, then with two fingers just above the skull that rested against her skin, he pushed her backwards, and together they quietly made their way into the bedroom, where soon it would be anything but quiet.

Not even quite a week had passed when in the dead of the night, phones were buzzing. Sophie raised her platinum blonde head from Victor's chest and blinked sleepily before reaching across him and grabbing their phones.

He took his silently and together they studied the message there, and then wordlessly they slipped out of black sheets, showered quickly and dressed.

Sophie had never been one to put any kind of effort into her hair, but this new Sophie wielded her flat iron with skill and efficiency, and she was ready just moments after Victor, and they left together.

They didn't speculate or even talk as he drove, but her hand rested on his thigh as she gazed out the window, gazing at the lights of Gotham.

When they made it to the house, Oswald was having a bit of a tantrum.

"Commissioner Essen is dead!" Penguin announced and threw a glass to the ground. Victor pulled out a chair for Sophie before they turned their attention the television the played in the room.

"And this, this kid is who we have to thank," Oswald spat, as the news station continued its top story in a loop, warning viewers of the graphic nature of what they were about to view.

Sophie watched as the young teenager with a shock of red hair shot police officers and laughed, his maniacal chortle sending goosebumps over her flesh underneath her black and green A-line dress. Victor was watching the screen hungrily, she realized when she glanced at him, watching the screen over Penguin's shoulder.

"They call themselves the Maniax, and I know nothing about them!" Oswald chimed, an angry smile on his face, and his tone unforgiving.

"Victor," the boss stated, turning to his right hand hitman, "If you would be so kind, I would like the word spread to our people to get me as much information on these meddling Arkham escapees as soon as possible!"

Victor nodded sharply, and with one last longing look at the television he was signaling his men out and leaving in a purposeful rush.

"They're really trying to screw things up for me," Oswald giggled unhappily, and grabbing a vase from the mantlepiece, threw it at the table.

Sophie flinched as porcelain pieces scratched their way down the large wooden table. One of the blonde beauties let out a cry and Sophie looked to see that a piece of said vase was sticking out of her cheek.

The girl began to shriek with pain and Sophie saw a dark rage flash over Penguin's face, so she was up and moving, grabbing the girl's arm and pulling her from the room, hissing at her to hush.

Sophie moved them to a bathroom, and shoved the girl down onto a white toilet. Turning on the faucet, Sophie began to grab towels and turned towards the girl.

"You need to calm down sweetie," she said with a honeyed, but firm voice.

The girl hiccuped, and large blue eyes looked up at Sophie, red rimmed and wet with tears.

"I'm going to get it out, and it's going to bleed alot," Sophie warned her, and touched the girl's bare shoulder gently.

The girl nodded and hiccuped again, and then Sophie was pulling, and the jagged piece came out of her cheek with a sharp tug and a rush of crimson blood.

"Hold this against it, hard," Sophie told the girl, and after tossing the piece of vase in the trash, grabbed the towels she gathered at the sink and then was pulling the girl off the toilet and out of the bathroom. Down the hall they went, and both women flinched as another piece of value was smashed against something. Sophie and the girl at her side caught sight of the remaining bevy of beauties hugging each other and standing against the far wall, watching Oswald with fear.

Sophie signaled one of the guards at the front door, "I need a ride to the clinic," she hailed him and with a nod, he disappeared and went to retrieve their ride.

When Sophie finished the last suture on the girl's face, she looked stoically at the girl's face as she was asked for a mirror. Handing the girl one from her own desk, Sophie plucked off her gloves and washed her hands.

"It won't scar, will it Doc?" the girl asked tearfully, touching her numb cheek curiously.

"I'm a nurse," she reminded the girl, "And there's a chance it might,"

Truth was the girl's place in Oswald's gallery of beauties was gone, and if her suspicions were correct, he got rid of them permanently once they were no longer of interest, or use.

Sophie texted someone to pick her up, and closed the door behind the girl and the guard sent to retrieve her. Sophie moved to her desk and turned on a small television that had been installed in the back of the building.

Sitting on her desk, Sophie watched Gotham plunge further into chaos, crazed laughter the soundtrack to its descent.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Sophie is rocking against Victor, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as his teeth are at her breast when she hears the knock at the door. She pauses, but he presses his fingertips against the small of her back, encouraging her on, and her heart flutters as she regains their rhythm. Victor rumbles in appreciation, and soon he has a vice like grip on her hips as his body strains and contorts in release.

The knocking comes again and a deadly anger passes over his face as he lifts her off him and onto the bed. He grabs the gun he keeps on the nightstand and walks naked as the day he was born out of the bedroom and towards the door.

Sophie scrambles to find her black silk robe and ties it around her waist snuggly, before racing after him. Victor has finished looking through the peephole when she arrives and is turning, muttering under his breath as he heads back to the room, finger twitching against the trigger of his gun.

Sophie peers through the hole and then unlocks the door, opening it with a grim, irritated look on her face.

The mafiosi on the other side gape like fish with eyes bulging at her short robe, but in the darkness of their home and the night, Sophie knows there really isn't much to see other than the paleness of skin.

"What?" she snaps, and realizes that Victor's habits and mannerisms have begun to rub off on her. She can hardly tolerate the stupidness of people without throttling them mentally.

"S-s-sorry, Mrs. Zsasz," one stutters, and gets promptly elbowed by the other.

"Miss Sophie," the other one corrects,"we'be been unable to get ahold of Zsasz. Penguin has a job for him."

Vaguely she recalls that they may have ignored some phone buzzing when their night began. When her eyes flicker to look around the door, she sees Victor is already suited up and headed her way.

"I'll be killing you later," he tells the two men at their door, who look from him to her with utter fear on their faces, but Sophie only cares about the look he gives her as he leaves and closes the door behind them.

Sophie is at the clinic noting her stock of supplies twenty-four hours later when he comes through the clinic door, a strain to his face, almost unrecognizable under his rage.

He is ominously silent as she removes the holster from his chest, notes the gunpowder over his black sweater, and the obvious bullet hole in his left shoulder.

Sophie cuts the sweater away once she gets him to sit on top of the surgical table, and notes with a prayer of thanks that the bullet went right through and that the wound is a clean one.

"Will we be adding new marks today?" she asks to get him to open up.

With his right hand he slams his fist onto the table, and Sophie's only response is to blink before going back to cleansing the wound.

"I failed," he seethes and Sophie decides silence is probably the best course of action.

"Gordon and his stooges showed up," he starts, then he's silent again, but for the terrible grinding of his teeth.

As she sews him up, Sophie wishes she could convey that he has never been, nor will he ever be a failure in her eyes. When she tapes the gauze dressing over his new wound, he is pushing off the table and away from her.

There's a look in his eye, in the way he doesn't actually look at her that tells her his rage is at himself, but...he's probably thinking she's made him weak, and to be honest, she knows that he's changed, but she doesn't think he is in any way weaker.

Her words will only anger him further, so instead she goes to the closet and retrieves the button down shirt from the suit she keeps in there for him. His eyes narrow when she hands him the shirt, and to preserve his pride, she doesn't even offer to help him put it on.

"Penguin will be upset about this," he warns when he finishes buttoning up the shirt.

Sophie waves her hand, "I'll be fine, just...be careful. You can handle him or anyone else if you need to."

He blinks at her and she at him, realizing that while her confidence in him is unfailing, her words and opinion could cause them alot of trouble. They leave the clinic together, drive home in silence and he drops her off before going to Penguin with his failure.

She wants to touch his face, shower him with kisses, but his muscles are coiled and ready to strike, so instead she settles with a squeeze to his knee and one kiss to the corner of his grim set mouth before she leaves the car.

Soon word is going around via texts and phone calls. Oswald's mother is dead, and Theodore Galavan, Gotham's newest "hero" and mayoral candidate is responsible. The fallout of this, Sophie realizes with a sinking feeling, will be terrible.

She's finally fallen asleep alone in bed when the phone in her hand buzzes. Sophie studies it for a few minutes, uncomprehending. Then she is moving and getting dressed in some nondescript clothing, shoving her shock of hair under a knit cap and heading out the door. A vague text from Victor veils a directive to go to her apartment, which she follows unquestioningly. Her work phone she leaves on the nightstand, turned off.

Sophie walks and jogs intermittently, taking winding, convoluted paths before she eventually takes a bus back to her apartment. When she walks in the door, her once-home is a foreign place to her. She feels as if she is intruding into someone else's apartment, but the things that are there are hers, old Sophie's. Sophie keeps her Victor phone on and close to her heart.

The news begins to make Sophie anxious. The new police commissioner Barnes has started a task force geared to take down the corruption in Gotham. A noble cause, Sophie supposes, but their intended target is Penguin for his attempts on the lives of Galavan and Randall. Victor 's face is splashed across the screen, warning of his dangerous nature, and noting that he killed several people in the attempt on Hobbs' life. Admittedly, Sophie is kind of surprised Detective Gordon hasn't come knocking on her door again, but figures so much has been happening, he may not even remember her, and Sophie realizes that a significant amount of time has passed since he visited.

Criminals against criminals, Sophie thinks as she chews on her thumbnail, the light of the screen flickering over her face. Who are the good guys anymore? Even the politicians who stand behind a podium and lecture about morals, their love for the city and their need to improve it are just working secretly to drive that city into the ground.

Why can't anyone just be honest, she thinks. Come out and say, I'm a kingpin of crime, and with the state of the world, it probably wouldn't cause that big of a wave, people would just do what they always do, choose the lesser of the evils. The evil that you know is sometimes, but not always, safer than the evil you do not, Sophie notes when Galavan's mayoral bid is replayed. She looks at his slicked back hair and his earnest expression, but his eyes are hungry, much like Fish Mooney's eyes were hungry. What evil do you hold in store for us, Sophie thinks, and she is more afraid of him than the killer she shares her bed with, of whom she actually has no fear of, or the killer said lover works for, whom she is more cautionary of than afraid.

The cops are killers or on the payroll for killers, who are the payroll of another killer and so on...Sophie surmises that heroes have probably only ever been a thing of fiction, of lesser evils. No one is truly a hero, there were never such a things as good guys in the world.

Sophie doesn't hear from Victor for days, and then a week. As that next week begins to stretch on, her nerves start fraying. Is he laying low, escaping Penguin's anger and Galavan's campaign? Or has he been punished and wounded? Either way communication with him would surely just put him in more jeopardy, so she remains radio silent until she hears from him first.

Sophie lays in bed with tears trickling out of the corner of her eyes, feeling sick. Once again she has let him down with her inability to do anything useful. She wishes she had some idea of what to do, instead of just remembering his form climbing through her window, his arm at an odd angle.

The days run together, and she loses track of time. Sophie has no work to bury herself in to keep herself distracted and she hates the monotony, the fear, the absence of him which she feels the deepest, which haunts her the most.

She begins to take walks, runs, trying to catch a glimpse of Doctor Rome outside of Gotham General, seeing if maybe a black car comes to pick him up, something. Yet Sophie doesn't see the good doctor at all on her passes, regardless of the time of day.

It is a Wednesday, and an uncommonly hot night during a Gotham summer when she realizes she is being followed, when she is attacked.

Sophie is jogging back to her apartment when she sees men she doesn't know, but immediately they strike her as mafia at the front door of her apartment, arguing, pointing at the nameplates by the door. Sophie lowers her head and keeps on jogging, trying not to drastically increase her pace.

She is making another circuit around the neighborhood when she catches the reflection of different men in the glass window of her old coffee shop. She is being followed,. this is not the first window she has seen their reflections in.

When Sophie looks around to assess her other routes, she notices that the men she had seen in front of her apartment are now headed her way, and she is being sandwiched in.

There are children playing in the water spray of a broken pipe across the street. Are they safe when they go home, Sophie randomly wonders, are they happy and loved?

Sophie ducks quickly into the coffee shop, and pulls her cellphone from her sports bra.

Sophie hits the send button on her text, and then exits the coffee shop, mindful of her shadows and the squeal of children as she goes down her only alternate route, an alley next to the coffee shop.

The men that had been at her apartment pass by the alley, just passerbys. But the men who have been following her continue along her path. They've seen the diamonds in her ears, around her neck. They want money, and Sophie realizes she has gauged this all wrong, and yet, not in complete error; the end will be the same.

When her head hits the cement, she thinks of his whisper, _I am Victor Zsasz_ , and her heart is happy.

She isn't at her apartment when he goes to retrieve her. His phone calls aren't returned. Victor has been thinking the made life is no longer for him, too many constraints. His talents aren't being utilized to the fullest extent. And the volatile nature of his boss put him in the dangerous and precarious position of losing his temper, badly.

His irritation turns to anger when he can't find her. Has she run from him when she got the chance, the thought crosses his mind, but he quickly eliminates it.

It is his least favorite option, but also his last when he walks through the doors of Gotham General and heads to her old unit.

Victor dwells in the shadows, studying faces when he sees a woman he'd seen Sophie conversing with back at Mooney's, and outside of the hospital on occasion.

He grabs her arm and pulls her aside, "I'm looking for Sophie Summers," he growls, trying to remain even keeled. The woman is just about to exclaim for help, when she falters at his words, and then looks up at him, hard.

She's an older woman, and her face is lined with not just age, but the things she's seen come through her doors.

"You're that man of hers, aren't you?" she finally asks, and when she doesn't fight his grip, he lets go of her, progress is being made.

"I've been unable to get into contact with her," he says vaguely.

"Why weren't you with her?" the woman asks, angry, eyes getting wet, face red.

"My job pulled me away until recently, I just got back into town," Victor explains, and he hates explaining himself to someone so lowly.

The anger doesn't leave her face, "Was your number the one in her phone?" she asks.

Victor is losing his patience, "Do you know where she is, or not?" he snaps.

The woman looks torn, before she heads to the unit desk, Victor her angry shadow.

"I'm stepping off the unit, be back in a few minutes," she tells the unit secretary, and then she is leading Victor out of the emergency room to the intensive care unit. There she speaks to a nurse at the desk who looks at Victor, and then at his escort before nodding. They enter a room at the back of the unit that smells like decay and is filled with the hum of a machine.

Victor doesn't understand why he has been brought here and his anger is turning to rage. The figure on the bed is bruised and swollen, and the hum of the machine is a ventilator that is connected to tubing in her mouth.

"She was found in an alley behind that coffee shop she loved. They ripped the earrings out of her ears, necklace off her neck. They shot her, but….that didn't kill her like they probably thought it would...just...left her without oxygen to her brain," the woman ended with a tight voice, and then she sobbed. "Sometimes, her eyes open, but she doesn't track...and all the tests show that …. it's just the machines now. She has no family, no one for us to contact to ask about her wishes. We are going to withdraw care soon," the woman ended.

Quickly the woman is touching the patient's hand and then retreating from the room, hand to her mouth.

Victor eyes the machines, the numbers on the screens that supposedly indicate life. He prowls closer, investigating each one, before he makes it to the side of the bed, and finally looks upon her.

There is a void in his chest, a black hole that is rupturing and causing fissures throughout his being, he is being consumed.

Half her head has been shaved, and bandages are wrapped around the length of her swollen head, but especially heavy on the right side of her face, and bruises look like purple-black paint has been poured down her face.

Delicate fingers are taped together or in splints. Her ears are also covered with dressings, and her chest rises and falls with the timing of the machine to her left.

Bruising around her ivory neck, and her eyelids are fluttering. Her emerald eyes are a sight against the burst blood vessels in her eyes, like some horrific version of Christmas colors.

Victor finds that his fingers are touching the back of her hand, and then reaching up to touch her chin. A mugging, a robbery has taken his Sophie.

What had she thought of when it happened? Victor's muscles can't decide between jumping erratically underneath his skin, or going so utterly still that they feel like they will rip from the strain. With a gentle touch he lifts a flaccid wrist and eyes her admit bracelet. His brain whirls and he thinks of a text he'd received.

How long does he stare at her face? She is sleeping, that is the face she makes as she rests. Yet, there she is, simply a prisoner of her flesh, the living dead.

"Sophie," he begins, "Sophie."

That void within his chest is becoming a maw of unfathomable rage. With nimble fingers, he unplugs the machines, disconnects tubing.

Alarms are sounding, those signs of life wailing in a last cry.

The nurse who had been at the desk rushes in and when she goes to call for help, Victor snaps her neck and lets her body fall to the floor as he continues to disconnect his Sophie.

Then his arms are lifting her and he is whisking her away and out of the hospital, to back doors and stairs, and into the car he had taken to get there. Then up to her apartment where he slides her body between white, white sheets.

His Sophie, always surrounded in white.

Her chest is seizing, and sounds are coming from within her that would make a lesser someone wretch. He sits next to her, one hand on hers, and the other touching her cheek as it cools.

When he is satisfied that her image has been carved into his brain sufficiently, he rises. Sophie is sleeping. She is now in a place that he cannot follow her to. There will be no more scaling of walls, no more crawling through windows.

There will be no more slipping between white sheets, no more infuriating back talk, no more green eyes flashing at him. There will be no more little hands upon and within his own. No more beating heart under that breast.

There is a quickness and mindfulness to his movements as Victor turns her apartment building and its residents to ash. Fire really has never been his weapon of choice, but he remembers books describing funeral pyres of figures larger than life. There was an ancient East Indian practice called _sati_ where a widow would cast herself upon the funeral pyre of her husband, but Victor has too much to do to endure the flames with her now. So instead, he sacrifices the lives of all the souls in the building as her accompaniment into death, as a payment to any kind of deity that would take their lives, if only to give hers back. Yet, Victor determines, even Death would find Sophie to be succulent and be unwilling to relinquish her.

Later, when the total death count is revealed in the news, Victor begins his tallies in a dingy bathroom of a place that is utterly disgusting in its conditions.

Her tally is just one of many, but it is the one that hurts the most, and slices him deepest.

' _I love you, Victor Zsasz'_ , her text had said, _'I love you, Victor Zsasz'_.

It haunts him, this man with no guilt, no regrets. It sunders his connection to reality, to the world, to his specie. He is not only a creature of the dark, he is the dark.


	14. Epilogue

Epilogue

Years later, Victor Zsasz would find he hated the Caped Crusader, the Batman. He would curse his name, and even promised the inside of his eyelids to that particular death tally, so great was his desire to end the man's life.

His intense hatred for the hero went misunderstood by psychiatrists at Blackgate and at Arkham.

The loss of her was felt everyday, sometimes just by her absence, but sometimes it was the overwhelming void created by the vacuum of sorrow and rage that knew no depths. Sophie Summers had done so much for him, and it was in her death that Victor had grasped his purpose in life. He'd always been good at killing people, it was his art. Yet releasing people from their mortal coil, that was his true purpose, and her death would not be meaningless.

When he'd sit in the darkness of his cells and turn the image of her over and over in his mind, his hatred for Batman increased exponentially.

Where was that hero thirty years ago when kids got abused by their parents and other little kids were left to provide shelter?

Where was that masked fuck when a woman got mugged and maimed jogging on the street twenty years ago?

Why was now the time of heroes, and not then? What the fuck was the purpose in it all? Well, all that mattered to Victor Zsasz was that the Batman hadn't been there when he'd really needed some kind of a hero himself, and that was the greatest wrong the caped freak could ever commit.

Victor couldn't wait to end the Batman's life.

'You should have saved her,' he'd whisper as he carved vengeance into the hero, and then it wouldn't hurt so bad. Zsasz could hardly wait for that day.

The End.

 **Thank you for reading/following/favoriting! I hope you enjoyed it! I really wanted to tie in the Zsasz from Gotham to the other incarnations of Zsasz I've seen in comics and movies. By the end, I wanted to explain how he becomes the Zsasz of Batman's present. I still love reviews, so PLEASE leave them! :D**


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